Penmanship Smitten
by HeyLookTheSnitch
Summary: There were four things that I was incredibly certain of— 1. Prongs was a troublemaker. 2. He very well could be lying and really was a female. 3. I had no clue who he was. 4. I one hundred percent fancied the pants off the bloke.
1. Prelude

**Disclaimer:** _The wonderful world of Harry Potter does not belong to me, let me assure you. I may be a high school graduate, but I'm not that intelligent... ;)_

**Fuller Summary:** _No one in Hogwarts can figure out who the Marauders are; a teacher? Unlikely. Students? Most likely, but who? The students' only clue is an emblem left after every prank that includes four different animal foot prints. Meanwhile, Lily Evans remains unimpressed with a certain James Potter's attempts to woo her; however, the one and only Mister Prongs has caught her attention by the mysterious, but nonetheless, endearing notes he leaves to her._

**A/N:** _HOORAY! I graduated from high school! I'm so incredibly full of emotions that I can't even begin to describe them. So, welcome to my new story! I'm pretty darn excited for this one. Hopefully, you all enjoy it like you seemed to like Devil Wears Quidditch Gear (let me take a minute in silence to remember that faithful story...tear, tear...okay, I'm good). Well, this story is going to be written from Lily's point of view, first person, and I don't know how I feel about that...lol. A few weeks ago, I became totally obsessed with the Twilight series (shoutout to all of you Edward lovers out there!), and I think that's what probably inspired me to try a first person view. So, honestly, tell me what you think, and I'll go back and re-write everything in third person if I must (don't worry, I don't have that much written yet, so, really, be honest!)._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Prelude**

_And I could tell you  
His favorite color's green.  
He loves to argue  
Born on the seventeenth.  
His sister's beautiful,  
He has his father's eyes  
And if you ask me if I love him,  
I'd lie.  
_--Taylor Swift, I'd Lie

* * *

Some would have said that I was obsessed.

Only the brave ones would have admitted—out loud—that I was hopelessly crazy.

In all honesty, I suppose I was caught somewhere between those two adjectives, flitting recklessly between them. Although, I suppose to be infatuated with a boy whose name was a mystery, a person would have to be a little bit of both. After all, isn't having an extreme obsession with something intangible always a first sign of insanity?

For all I knew, I could have had a one-way floo network to St. Mungo's with my name on it.

I'm not really sure how that—how should I put it?—_interest _of mine began. Really, I usually was not the type of girl to fall head over heels for a bloke. Actually, I had only ever had two boyfriends in all of my seventeen years of life. That very insignificant statistic was mostly due to my hatred for all things having to do with lovey-dovey shows of affection; I shuddered the first time David Clarke, my boyfriend when I was fourteen, held my hand on the way to Potions. Likewise, I purposefully knocked over my goblet of pumpkin juice into his lap the night he stupidly put his arm around me at dinner. I guess it goes without saying that we had broken up before our two month anniversary.

My second boyfriend wasn't much luckier; one Friday before Christmas holidays in fifth year, as we sat in front of the fire playing a game of Gobstones, he foolishly decided to lean over and land a wet one on my cheek. I mean, who does that? There we were, playing a bleeding game with marbles, and he just up and kissed me! No warning, no time for me to make up an excuse that I had a sore on my cheek, nothing! Poor Michael…he was a goner before I got onto the Hogwarts' Express two days later.

Then there was James Potter. I had never dated him, but he definitely suffered from my unnatural distaste for love for the time span of seven years. In first year, I guess I could say we were friends; we were eleven and still afraid of catching cooties, so the most he ever said to me was something along the lines of 'Pass the chicken' at dinner. Maybe that explains why we got along so well back then. Second year, Potter and his three friends—and the rest of the twelve-year-old population at Hogwarts, for that matter—delved into that hideous assumption that girls were stupid, and, therefore, not worth their time to talk to, yet alone acknowledge their existence.

Again, Potter and I got on pretty well.

It was third year when he started going wonky. It was third year when I proposed that too much summer sun had fried his brain. It was third year that James Potter became the first boy to ask me out.

At first, I blamed Sirius Black for pushing him off of his broomstick over the holidays, but when he continued to persist, I came to the conclusion that he was simply mentally deranged. I was thirteen, I had already decided on my non-interest for any physical contact from the opposite sex, and, therefore, I did not want a boyfriend. James Potter especially made it on my list of people who I should never date—even if I decided I ever was ready for commitment—because rumor had gone around that the summer after second year he'd been caught snogging a third year Ravenclaw in the back of Flourish & Blotts. Only a teenager for a few months, and already his hormones were unleashing themselves onto Annie Bean's lips…in a _bookstore_, for Merlin's sake. If that didn't say 'Danger: Stay Away' I didn't know what possibly could.

Fourth and fifth year passed along in the same kind of way; he continued to try to impress me, and I continued to believe he was even more of an idiot than I had first thought. Sixth year he went through another change that caused half the school population to wonder if I had dragged him off to an empty corridor and hexed his mouth shut at the beginning of term. This change was even more shocking than his puberty stricken, hormonal driven, period; Potter went back to ignoring me. Well, no, I suppose ignoring isn't the correct term…No, he was still there—he would always be _there—_but he made it terribly obvious that he considered me nothing more special than his every day average classmate. This baffled me more than anything else, but it worked to my advantage perfectly; I no longer had to waste my energy avoiding him or rejecting him.

Yet, no matter how hard I tried to stray away, Potter slowly started becoming a problem. Seventh year morphed into nothing less than a bizarre, unheard of miracle…

The imbecile kissed me.

And he survived.

Now, at seventeen years old, about to graduate from school and enter the real world, I'd never experienced my first kiss, something that didn't quite depress me as much as it would other girls my age. I'd never needed, nor wanted, to touch mouth with a boy. So, imagine my surprise when James Potter, the winning-obsessed Quidditch captain and the over-confident Head Boy, snogged me…and I _didn't_ push him away.

My only guess was that I needed someone, a person who was tangible and _there _in the _now_, to release my pent up and repressed feelings for someone who would _never _be there…

It was the middle of fifth year that I changed almost as much as Potter would a year later. I had always guessed that my body was slow at developing, and the kick start that my hormones got two weeks after I had turned sixteen unfortunately proved that fact.

A boy jump-started my heart that year.

There was a group at my school, more pranksters than anything else, comprised of four blokes…well, at least that was what the students assumed (because girls couldn't _possibly_ be that rebellious…). No one had a clue as to who the brilliant masterminds that were behind these massive pranks could be. Whoever they were, they had never felt the need to reveal themselves, which was probably a smart choice on their part considering Professor McGonagall was constantly after them like a preying feline.

However, for some unknown reason, luck fell upon me.

These pranksters _were_, indeed, all male.

And that wasn't the only secret that I ended up being exposed to—

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.

_Prongs._

The way the name glided off of my tongue would always cause my lips to tingle pleasantly, warmly, as my mouth formed the single syllable slowly. And it was _that_ name that led me to my whole obsessive disorder problem and the cause for my mental instability and, therefore, lack of appropriate response—aka: push him away—when Potter kissed me.

For some reason, after Valentine's Day during my fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Prongs took an interest in me.

And for some stranger reason, I took an interest back.

Bizarre, was it not? Do I even need to recap my hatred for all things love and lust?

To add further proof to my mental insanity, I didn't even know the guy. Well, actually, I think I knew him better than I had ever known a bloke in my life. I felt like I knew everything there was to know about him, from his favorite color (which was yellow, by the way) to his desire to one day see a world without You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters. The one thing I didn't know was who he was physically; was he taller than me? Pale skin? Short hair? Muscular? All I had was my over-excited imagination, filled with new feelings and desires.

I had never met him.

The Marauders preferred to keep themselves on a low profile.

Perhaps that's why I found myself falling for him so desperately towards the end of my fifth year. Maybe that's why I found him so appealing throughout sixth. We would never meet; we would never have that boyfriend-girlfriend status. There was no worry of having to pertain in public displays of affection. From hugs, to hand-holding, to kisses, none of that would exist with us. All that connected us were our owls, letters, and personality synchronicity. We completely complemented each other; honestly, if there was ever a guy for me, it would have been him.

At first, Emmeline thought I was one hundred percent foolish and reckless to infatuate myself with a bloke I hadn't even truly met. She swore that he was really some low-life scum who only wanted to get into my trousers eventually; Mary had even tried to convince me for weeks that Prongs might even be a female. Severus—the only male that I actually enjoyed being in company with, because he hadn't even so much as hugged his own mother (which was, _is,_ quite sad when I think about it)—became cold and distant whenever I tried to talk to him about it.

But what could I do? My friends didn't know _him_ like I did, and no matter how absurd their theories became, nothing would keep me from running up to my dorm room after every prank that the four boys would pull, anxious to rip apart the seal (the Marauders' emblem: four very different footprints varying in sizes) to read the words that he had formed with his very own ink and quill.

I hopelessly, and completely, fancied the pants off that boy.

Looking back, I'm convinced that I really did need to be shipped off to the mental ward in St. Mungo's hospital. It probably would have been better for my psyche if I had. I had lost all of my rational reasoning, rules and walls that I had so carefully and thoughtfully constructed since the tender age of eleven.

And while my boundaries cracked and crumbled down in front of my very own shocked eyes, I began to fall.

And I fell hard.

* * *

_If you've made it down here, thanks for reading! Please leave me a review and let me know what you think; be as honest as you want. Even if you just want to drop a note off saying how much you love Twilight, I won't mind! (haha, I'm the only girl in my family, and my brothers refuse to read them, and only one of my friends have read them, so I have no one to talk to! Quite the dilemma...lol) Anyways, in all seriousness, thanks for reading this, and hopefully it was alright!_

_Until next time!_

_--HeyLookTheSnitch_


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **_Same old, same old._

**A/N:** _Ah! Thank you so much everyone for the positive feedback for the prelude! Thanks go to: Cherrykisses21, A-Lady, bookworm2butterfly, Magical Singer Gal, grayx3eyedsoul, -Jeisa-, beinginfinite, Falling Rain Forever, XxlEmOnDrOpxX, AdelphaHighbrow, Violin Ghost, tashville007, Kikuchi, shetlandlace, HalfBloodDragon, fictiouswrighter, serenity12345, Mouse and Stupid Productions, coffee dessert, Rashadian, tiger17lily, Mixora, PenguinBuddy, ellesra, fantasyatheart, SoManyObsessions, austenfan92, AQHRider, .the.brown.eyed.girl., and starcrossedvoyager. And, I think I actually got out replies to everyone who reviewed! I'll try to do that again this time around!_

_So, the first thing I learned from writing this chapter is that writing pranks is hard work! It still feels a bit choppy to me, but this is the best I could get it. So, this chapter takes place in fifth year. The next chapter will be fifth year as well. Then one chapter of sixth, and then the rest will all take place in Lily's seventh year. _

_Oh, also, say I wanted to fix something in the prelude, how do I go about doing it? Do I have to replace it with the correct version? And if I do that, will it delete the reviews and such? It would be great if someone could help me out! As for what I want to fix, some of you will probably figure it out after reading this chapter. Mary's character just kind of evolved as I wrote this...I had the correction on a different document, just not the one I uploaded. _

_Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

**Chapter 1: Confetti's Apology**

_And I don't even know his last name  
My momma would be so ashamed.  
It started off, "Hey cutie, where're you from?"  
And then it turned into, "Oh no, what've I done?"  
And I don't even know his last name.  
_--Carrie Underwood, Last Name

* * *

Something was off.

Now, maybe it was just the Prefect instinct in me, but I could definitely tell that something was hiding, or rather, waiting. Students chattered enthusiastically amongst themselves whilst reaching across the table for yet another chicken leg; the professors sat at the head table, some of them watching the students wearily, others whispering to each other about what had occurred in this morning's Prophet. Silverware clattered, juice sloshed over rims of goblets, and two quills seemed to be racing each other around the Hufflepuff table.

In other words, everything appeared to be absolutely normal—or as normal as a boarding school for witches and wizards could get. Yet, there was something in the atmosphere, almost a distinct hum, a vibe, that seemed to pulse around the Great Hall.

Yes, something _was_ waiting indeed.

"Does it feel…tense to you?" I asked my friends, looking for the right word, fingering my Prefect badge on pure instinct. If mischief was about to start…I quickly glanced down the Gryffindor table to where a group of boys sat, all of whom seemed to be acting quite innocently, strangely enough. James Potter and Sirius Black currently seemed to be playing a game of tick-tack-toe on Remus Lupin's napkin. Well, I did have a tendency to jump towards conclusions; the typical 'act now and ask questions later' type of attitude.

Mary snorted quietly, a short noise that was meant to hide her mocking laughter. "Oh, honestly, Lily, ever since Potter's and Black's prank two weeks ago, you've been on edge."

Well, she would be too if she had woken up to her slippers—which had mysteriously grown fuzzy fangs during the night—that were trying to gnaw off her toes.

Stupid boys.

I crossed my arms over my chest—a habit that I had developed for any time that called for defending myself—knowing that I was right. Again, yet another flaw in my character: stubbornness and outright refusal to admit I was wrong.

"You will be eating your words, Mary," I said, pointing a finger at her from across the table, "eating them, I say."

To my left, Emmeline rolled her eyes, pushing her unruly dark hair over her shoulder hastily as she reached for the platter of mashed potatoes. "As long as we're eating, I'm good," she announced.

Oh, good old Emmeline Vance; following her stomach rather than her naturally born instincts for spotting trouble…well, whenever food was around, that is. Honestly, could she really not feel that anxious, 'something's-about-to-jump-out-and-scare-us-all-silly' atmosphere? Out of both of my best friends, I would have counted on Em to be the one to back me up; she trusted nothing and _no one_.

"Humph," I countered as dignified as possible, turning my head towards the Slytherin table. I smiled when I saw Severus in his seat, his eyes narrowed and darting around the Great Hall as if he were trying to glimpse everyone at once. Ha; at least I wasn't the only one who felt odd tonight.

"See?" I exclaimed, brandishing a hand towards Sev, "even the Slytherins know that something—"

And that's when I screamed.

I always thought I was more composed than that.

Then again, at least I wasn't the only one; everyone in the vicinity shrieked as a sound like a Muggle bomb being dropped from a thousand feet in the air exploded over the dining hall. Eating utensils began to fly, and this time it wasn't because two friends were having fun by bewitching their tools; knives, forks, spoons, and even plates soared through the air as students reacted to the noise, throwing whatever had been in their hands at the time out of fearful surprise. A couple of first and second years even toppled right off of their seats and onto the floor.

"_What the hell_?" shrieked Emmeline, catching her goblet of juice before it toppled over because of the tremors raking the table. Actually, it was a brilliant catch—props to Emmeline's built-in Quidditch reflexes.

There was brief chaos for not more than a second as students attempted to dodge flying cutlery, and then—almost one by one—people began to realize what must be going on.

_I_ began to realize what was about to start.

No wonder I had felt so antsy.

A prank.

And a good one at that.

Mary grinned coyly. "Uh oh…"

The noise hadn't been the end of it; it had merely been an attention-seeker. And, by golly, it had done its job. Even Professor McGonagall was on the edge of her seat.

Or perhaps that was because she was simply determined to catch the trouble makers—the group which had dubbed themselves the Marauders—that had so far escaped her wrath for the past six or so months.

I smiled, ducking my head away from the teacher's table so none of my professors would see my excitement for the mischief—that would be considered nothing less than extreme Prefect blasphemy.

And then someone down at the end of the Hufflepuff table shouted, "Oh, look!" and the fourth year pointed toward the ceiling, excitement oozing from that one simple gesture that quickly spread to all of my peers.

Simultaneously everyone looked up.

My breath caught in my throat.

The ceiling of the Great Hall, which usually, at this time, should have been reflecting the stars that were popping up in the vast blackness of the sky, had turned a bright shade of pink. Some girls 'ohh-ed' and 'awww-ed' at the sight while the boys were hoping that something was going to explode again—goodness, why were guys so prehistoric?—and then, like a tidal wave that came in unexpectedly, the pinkness began to drop as a surge of heart-shaped confetti flooded down on top of the house and staff tables.

A piece of the shaped paper fell onto my nose and I picked it off easily, examining it with—what I could only assume—was disgust. Ugh…pink…hearts…_Valentine's Day_, the most revolting holiday ever invented by card-making companies. My dislike for the decorations nearly evaporated my joyful anticipation for the prank. "Really outdid themselves for the occasion, didn't they?" I mocked, throwing the confetti from my hand and shaking the copious amounts that had lodged itself into my thick red hair.

"I think it's cute," Mary announced, "it's Valentine's day tomorrow, after all."

I groaned. Oh, Mary, so naïve and…_girly. _Couldn't she see the pointlessness behind the silly holiday? I mean, creating _one _measly day of the year devoted to telling the people in our life that we love them? Shouldn't we do that every day? I mean, _honestly_.

"Ouch," Emmeline suddenly yelped, rubbing the back of her head painfully. For a second, I rejoiced that at least one of my friends had her priorities straight and thought that Valentine's Day should be burned off the calendar, but then something plunked me on the nape of my neck.

"Hey, you twat, that hurt!" I accused, whacking Em on the arm.

"What are you—?"

And then chocolates began falling from the ceiling.

Yes, chocolates. Little _heart-shaped _candies wrapped in _bright pink shiny _paper. Okay, the Marauders had seriously outdone themselves…no one needed this much…Valentine's_…_in their life. Pointless, silly chocolates—that were _heart_-shaped…_HEART—_that hurt like a bloody stinging curse. No matter the size, candies free-falling from _that_ height would leave a bruise the size of my sister's boyfriend's thumb—which was _huge_ compared to any normal person's finger.

"Under the tables!" commanded Sirius Black and at once, he and his three friends dive-bombed underneath the Gryffindor wooden table.

Now, normally I wouldn't follow a word of advice from that deranged boy, but after another chocolate nearly scalped me, I slipped off my bench and into safety.

Big mistake.

A pair of hazel eyes met mine, and I retreated quickly, my palms already clammy. "Cool, eh, Evans?"

_Try to touch me one time, Potter, and I'll_—"Yeah, sure," I answered, crawling my way over towards Mary as the sounds of chocolates bouncing off the tables accompanied with the noise of benches scraping across the stone floor filled the air.

Curiously, I glanced out and over towards the teachers, mostly so I could escape Potter's gaze. McGonagall seemed like she was about to combust; her mouth was thinner than I'd ever seen it, her lips pressed tightly together. Dumbledore was merely smiling serenely as he plucked a piece of chocolate that had fallen into the brim of his hat and popped it into his mouth, as if his school _wasn't_ being attacked by flying chocolates and confetti madness.

It only took about a minute for the chocolates to become still, littering the tables, benches, and floor as if they were merely decorations…for a completely idiotic holiday.

"Well," I began, brushing the hideous pink stuff off of my seat, "that was interesting," I finished, noticing the ensemble of accumulated mess on the ground, that, being a Prefect, I would most likely have to help clean up. Even though the Marauders had just come into existence this term, the school had enough experience to know that the chocolates, confetti, and overall _mess_ most likely had a non-vanishing spell placed on them…meaning, it would all have to be exposed of…by hand.

Not to mention that Dumbledore had a tendency for encouraging comradeship between houses, starting with putting Prefects together in one room to duke it out and see who could clean up the most the fastest.

Yeah, we Prefects were pretty cool kids.

"Speak for yourself…" Emmeline announced sullenly, "I'm going to have a lump on my head tomorrow the size of Hagrid." She rubbed the back of her skull where a particularly large piece of chocolate had thwarted her.

It was at that moment—almost as if Emmeline's voice had triggered it—that an odd crackling noise erupted in the middle of the hall, where the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables were separated by a walkway. It was a sound like fireworks make right before they shoot off into the air and explode into color; a type of whizzing sound that can be both annoying and pleasing all at once.

Oh joy.

It wasn't over.

As if being directed by an invisible wand, words written in flashing pink and red, measuring about five feet long, appeared in thin air. I didn't even have time to mentally mock the glittering, sparkling letters before a short, but albeit large, poem filled the area of about twenty square feet.

I heard a snort of laughter escape from James Potter's throat.

_Roses are red,  
Violets are blue.  
You-know-Who stinks,  
And looks like poo._

My mouth dropped open…the enjoyment quickly started overtaking my sour distaste for the pink confetti and vicious chocolates.

With a flash of blinding light, the words erupted into a mass of, what looked like, falling stars, as they reassembled themselves into an emblem that the Hogwarts' population had become accustomed to recognizing; a shield that looked like the Hogwarts' crest, with four distinct animal footprints where the raven, badger, lion, and serpent were usually depicted. Then, the symbol disappeared all together as everyone in the dining hall roused into laughter.

My lips twitched…and I knew I really shouldn't be laughing, because, I mean, _really—_it was a childish poem, and it had to do with _Valentine's Day_, for Merlin's sake—but the situation was just so infectious and laughable that I couldn't help it.

Soon enough, I was leaning on Emmeline's shoulder, tears threatening to spill down my cheeks, as the rest of the student population attempted to write down the poem on a spare piece of parchment for future reference.

"One of these days, those Marauders are going to get themselves killed," Emmeline predicted, trying to remain serious despite the giggles that were threatening to come from her.

"Only if You-Know-Who can catch them first," Mary piped up, "'_looks like poo'_…honestly."

I giggled louder. Even though the Marauders had some strange sense of humor—and decorations, for that matter (pink confetti now covered my plate of food)—at least they knew how to lighten an atmosphere with their over-creative imagination. And I doubted I would get them in trouble, even if I did know who they were. At least their pranks never _hurt _anyone…well, those candies had come close to giving a fair few a mighty concussion, but regardless…

_Looks like poo_…

Classic.

"Alright, alright, let's try and settle down now," stated Dumbledore from the front of the hall. He had stood up to gain his pupils' attention…some of the students chuckled when a lone piece of chocolate fell from the ceiling and landed into the Headmaster's outstretched hand. His eyes twinkled as he placed it onto the table. "Now…" he pulled out his wand and rolled up the sleeves of his midnight blue robes, "to clean this up, though I doubt our friends made it that easy—" And I could have sworn he winked as he waved his wand…

And nothing happen.

Darn it. I refused to believe that he'd given it his best effort.

I sighed, knowing what was coming next. "Prefects, please stay behind after dinner to help clean this mess up, for working as one will take half the time. Thank you."

I groaned, forgetting my young joy from the prank, as Mary patted me sympathetically on the back. "At least Snape will be there," she tried to comfort. Out of all of my friends, she was the one who tried to encourage my friendship with Sev, of which I was grateful. Though, I think that it could have had more to do with the fact that Mary was just happy that I at least had one guy friend who I enjoyed hanging out with willingly.

"Severus isn't a Prefect, Mary," I reminded her.

"Yes, but we all know that Mulciber will do squat, and Snape will stay behind to fill his spot if not only to appease you," Mary explained wisely. Hm, that was true.

"Not to mention you can eat all of the left over candy," Emmeline brought up, trying to conceal her scowl at the mentioning of my Slytherin friend's name. Like I said, she wasn't very trustworthy.

I grinned despite my sour mood that the pink, frilly intruders had brought on. "That _was_ a pretty amazing prank," I admitted, picking up a piece of chocolate—because dinner was ruined now anyways—and plopping it into my mouth, savoring the taste of the milky, creamy goodness.

Besides, I had nothing against the chocolate; just the ridiculous celebration that happened to come along with it.

And then my heart jumped, nearly causing the chocolate in my mouth to pop right back out again, as a voice came up from behind us, and the bodies of two boys squeezed themselves into spots beside us, disregarding anybody they pushed out of the way.

"We could do better," James Potter said, puffing out his chest in an attempt to look threatening.

In reality, it made him look like dork.

But I would never tell him that to his face…and wound his ego, no, _never. _I snorted.

"Bewitched anyone's slippers lately?" I retorted, holding up my foot as if to make a point. I was trying to appear nonchalant about the prank they had pulled on me, trying to make them believe it had been no big deal and definitely wasn't worth any praise. But attempting to deflate the egos of Potter and Black is virtually impossible.

"Lost any toes recently, Evans?" Sirius shot right back, a smirk gracing his features.

Emmeline tried to fight a smile as Mary and I glared, not even bothering ourselves by gracing them with our speech. Oddly enough, Emmeline enjoyed the boys' company, but perhaps that was simply because they were all on the same sports team.

"Well," Potter continued, flicking a piece of chocolate down the table so that it hit Peter Pettigrew on the wrist, "we just came over here to wish you three a happy Valentine's Day…" he glanced at each of us in turn, a wide cocky grin, and then winked ever-so-slightly as his hazel eyes reached my face. My hands became clammy again…bloody boy, he always made me feel so uncomfortable…"So, later," he announced, nodding off to me in the annoying way that blokes often do, before—thank Merlin—the two left.

"He _so_ likes you," Mary announced as soon as they were out of earshot.

I threw a chocolate at her.

It was two hours later that I was finally released from Prefect duty—with all of our efforts, and a little help from Flitwick (honestly, why couldn't he had just used the darn spell earlier) the Great Hall was now spotless—I fell face down onto my bed, which actually squished my nose and hurt quite a lot.

"There's someone waiting for you," Mary said to me the second I had begun to relax.

I glanced up to look at my blonde friend, just wanting sleep to overtake me right then and there, before dropping my face back into my mattress. "Tell Potter to bugger off," I mumbled annoyingly into my pillow. My back was aching from crawling along the floor for an hour and a half before Professor Flitwick had announced he knew how to get rid of it…and he called himself an instructor…honestly.

"You might want to read it," Emmeline brought up. "It looks like a boy's writing."

"If it's from Potter, I don't want it," my words muffled once again by my fluffy pillow. Oh, sleep, take me away…

"Just open the bloody letter, Lily; we've been dying with anticipation!"

In order to get some sleep before classes tomorrow, I knew I'd have to placate Mary first anyway. So, I sat up slightly, my back cracking painfully as my joints popped, and nearly squashed a tiny furry something as I tried to lean against my head board.

"No, Lily, don't hurt it!" Mary squealed.

I turned my head to look behind me. Where in the magical name of Godric Gryffindor had this owl come from? I had never seen this animal in my life—it certainly wasn't Mary's or Sev's…The little brown bird looked at me with intelligent, inquisitive yellow eyes.

"Well, go on. See who it's from," Emmeline demanded tightly, taking a seat on the end of my bed.

Just then I noticed a small folded up piece of parchment with my name written on the outside attached to the owl's leg. The handwriting didn't look all that familiar—it was fairly messy; a few marks were evidence that someone had at least tried to write neatly; for example, the person had attempted to curl the 'y' and the end of 'Lily'—a large glob of ink at the end of that one letter proved their work to be disastrous.

Yep, it very well could be a guy.

"Ugh," I said, untying the letter carefully from the owl, "if this is another note from Michael wanting to get back together…"

"No, I heard he's going out with Alicia Wanton, now," Mary gossiped, one of her arms wrapped around the bed-post at the end of my bed, as she stood anxiously.

So, with the encouraging thought that it wasn't Michael—my psycho ex—or Potter (because the penmanship looked nothing like his)—my even crazier stalker—I flipped over the letter…and all three of us gasped.

It was sealed with the Marauder's emblem.

"Holy great-grandmother," I breathed, throwing the _thing_ back onto my bed as if it were diseased.

"What the…"

"Have you ever heard of anyone else getting a letter…?"

Mary jumped onto my bed, landing on her tiny knees—she was a very small girl—and grabbed my arm. "Open it!"

I glanced at her, then at Emmeline who was watching the parchment as if she thought it was about to explode, and then at the little white note with the slivery symbol…I broke into a nervous sweat.

"I don't—I can't—I mean—_what?_"

Mary shook my arm, her thin hand holding it tightly with force I never expected her petite body to possess. She was bouncing on her knees again, her blonde hair swaying from side to side excitedly. Her brown eyes were wide and pleading. "Open," she said. It was amazing how much damage a one word command could create.

I was a sucker for Mary's pout.

So, for some bizarre reason, I picked up the mysterious note. My hands were shaking slightly—was I over reacting?—and I looked towards Emmeline again, her mouth open as if she were thinking about saying something. Her blue eyes were staring at the paper in my hands, though it seemed as if she were really far away from here…I was afraid of what she was thinking. Emmeline didn't like mysteries; she preferred solid proof, untrusting of anything that contained clues or hazy outlines.

My fingers twitched over the emblem, tracing the four varying sized footprints, curiosity burning…

I slipped my index finger under the seal and pried it open before Em could say anything.

The letter fell open in my lap.

Emmeline hissed, drawing in a thin strip of air through the nearly non-existent gap between her two front teeth.

Mary simply clutched my arm harder and tried to control a very girlish squeal but failed; I cringed inwardly, but looked down at the letter anyways…mostly wanting to appease my thirsting curiosity.

"Well, here it goes…" I muttered, lowering my eyes.

I read it quickly once, feeling my friends' eyes on the paper as well. My heart jumped. I read it again.

_Dear Miss Lily Evans,_

_On the behalf of my fellow partners in mischief, I would like to extend an apology for the mess our prank—which, dare I say it, really added to the loving, heart-felt spirit of the occasion—made. Although, I can't really take the blame for Flitwick's dimwittedness (I mean, he's the __Charms__ teacher; you would think he would know a simple non-vanishing spell when he saw one…), the Marauders still feel responsible for the two hours of free time you were forced to miss tonight; however, we did expect that Dumbledore, at least, would be quick on his feet, but, alas, I suppose being the one who stopped Grindelwald doesn't account for much…No disrespect towards our wonderful headmaster intended, honest. Marauder's honor. Actually, I have a feeling that Dumbledore just wanted you Prefects to bond together…_

_Well, I'd better be going. A prankster like me has an intense schedule to keep up with._

_With deepest regret,_

_Pr._

_PS—My owl will know where to find me._

_Oh, and how incredibly rude of me to forget: Happy Valentine's Day._

I tried to control my breathing, but my heart was beating so fast that it was hard to take slow, labored breaths of air.

My owl will know where to—

It became hard to breathe again.

"He wants you to write him back!" Mary practically gushed, her brown eyes wide with wonder and awe.

"Him?" Emmeline questioned sharply, her dark eyebrows disappearing into her hairline.

"What? You think this marauder is _a girl_?" Mary stated sarcastically, rolling her eyes before looking down at the letter again. "His penmanship practically screams Y-chromosome."

I glanced up, holding my breath because trying to breathe was completely impossible at the moment. "I don't have that nice of handwriting, actually…" I admitted, thinking of all the essays I'd written and the countless amounts of times my professors have had to call me in to decode my pathetic writing.

Emmeline nodded quickly, her eyes turning darker than normal as she observed the note once more. "Exactly, thank you, Lily."

I simply shrugged, still trying to figure out the basics of breathing. The Marauders—the _bleeding _Marauders, for Merlin's sake—the pranksters who were notorious for their mystery and mischief, had written to _me. _

To apologize?

"Oh, come on," Mary declared, twirling her flushed face around gracefully to fix Emmeline with a perfectly crafted incredulous expression, "no girl would have written another girl and been so outrageously flirtatious."

Flirtatious? This Pr. guy—this _Marauder_—had been flirty? 'My owl will know where to find me…' I felt like burying my face in my hands, fearful of what Emmeline would say of the blush heating up my cheeks. This was so embarrassing…

Emmeline simply shot Mary with a stare, one of her eyebrows expertly lifted and her red lips pursed together, her arms crossed. "Oh, _come on_," Mary repeated, shaking her head. There was a second of silence. "Actually…" Mary began again, her eyes lighting up even more than they already were, "I read a book once where this woman had a relationship with this person completely through express owl-mail, and it turned out that—"

Em and I watched her, waiting. Actually, I was only half-listening to Mary prattle on about who-knows-what; my mind was quite preoccupied at the moment. "Well?" Em finally pushed impatiently.

"I can't tell you the ending! It would completely ruin the book!" Mary announced, smiling like we were the dense ones…_right_.

Oh, Merlin, Miss Mary Macdonald…Godric, she could be a ditz sometimes. Regardless of the antics of my strange little friend, I realized my heart was still spluttering erratically.

"Anyways," Emmeline continued quickly, though drawing out her speech to make sure, no doubt, that Mary would comprehend her; Em was determined to win this argument, "what I'm saying is Lily doesn't know who this person is; it could be a girl—" Mary opened her mouth, but Emmeline held up a hand—"and it could very well be a bloke, but how do we know this guy is any good? He could just be hoping to hook up with some random, vulnerable, girl—not that you're vulnerable, Lily."

"He never asked to meet me," I said thoughtfully.

Emmeline hissed agitatedly. "_So_?"

I looked between my two friends, vaguely aware that my fingers were fraying the edges of the letter. "How'd he know I was a Prefect?" I asked, ignoring Em's silent protest.

"Who _doesn't_ know?" Mary corrected.

I squinted up my face muscles, my eyebrows meeting in the middle, as I tried to make some coherent thoughts on this matter. "It almost seemed as if he—er, this person—_knows_ me—"

"—which makes it even creepier…"

"—or more romantic," Mary jumped in with her hyperactive girliness.

"No, you're both missing my point…let's say he does know me. Now, let's take in Em's consideration that he may just want to jump my bones. Those two ideas just don't match up…" I explained logically, hoping that by putting my brain to use it would stop the odd chemical reactions—or lack thereof— taking place in my lungs and heart.

If this troublemaker wanted to hook up with me and if he did, in fact, know me (which, I had a feeling he did, because some of the stuff he wrote about Valentine's Day almost seemed sarcastic) then this guy was either _way_ to optimistic or downright unintelligent.

Merlin, I wish I knew more about this person.

My curiosity spiked again.

The spark must have shown in my green eyes, because Emmeline's body tensed immediately as she regarded my face. "Don't even _think_ about it, Lily," she annunciated each word quietly, _deadly_.

My hands clenched around the note as I immediately became defensive; blast my quick temper. "The other Prefects could have easily gotten a letter as well—"

"—_This_ was addressed and written especially for _you_, Lily," Emmeline fought.

"They could've personalized ones to the others," I insisted.

"Could have, Lily, _could have_. This whole situation is way too wrapped up in ambiguity to be taken lightly."

And then Mary had somehow squeezed her way between us, holding out her slender hands which immediately ceased our retorts. "Shut up," she said simply in an oddly innocent way which didn't quite fit in with the current circumstance. "Emmeline—Lily can do what she wants; it's _her_ letter."

Emmeline bristled, her chest heaving. "You're only taking her side because you love the potential for one of your stupid romance novels to come to life," she claimed.

The only sign that proved that Mary had actually registered Emmeline's accusation was the fact that her eyes twitched, narrowing ever so slightly, the rest of face remaining blank and smooth. "Let's go to sleep. Tomorrow—if Lily wants to—she can poke around and see if any other Prefects received a note."

Immediately, Emmeline scrambled off my bed, mumbling some chosen profanities under her breath as she headed towards the bathroom. The door slammed behind her. She left an unnatural, tense silence in her wake. Mary and I refused to look at each other as we heard something that sounded like a hairbrush hit the other side of the bathroom door. I wondered if this Marauder character had any idea what he'd done to the girls' dormitory tonight.

_I wondered_…gosh, it seemed like that's all I was able to do. I hated wondering…to wonder blindly, not knowing the facts, only always made me more anxious to reveal the truth. My hands became moist again, smearing a bit of the black ink from the note.

"She has become way too uptight," Mary muttered quietly, throwing a hesitant glance at the door behind which Emmeline had disappeared. Already, Mary was beginning to feel guilty.

Again, I only found that I could shrug my shoulders helplessly as I refolded the note and placed it on the top of my trunk at the foot of my bed gently. The shower could be heard running now—Emmeline always took scalding showers to relieve her stress. I understood why she was so apprehensive; what, with both of her parents working for the Ministry as Aurors during these dangerous times, it only made sense why Em was so unwilling to trust even the most innocent of things—like a written apology, for example.

Mary had moved to her own mattress where she was currently braiding her long hair. I watched her, lost in thought for a while, until something to my left made a low hooting sound.

I jumped.

The owl.

The owl that I was supposed to send back with a response.

My gulp for air hitched in my throat painfully.

Why was this making me so jittery? Was it the thrill of an unsolved mystery? I always liked being right, proving myself correct, reveling in facts and details…was it driving me crazy that this letter appeared out of _nowhere_ from one of the most shady, but appealing, figures in Hogwarts, and I had no clue as to what the motives were behind it?

Yes. That had to be it.

The owl looked at me, blinked, and then ducked its head under its wing, settling in for the night.

It had instructions to wait.

Bloody thing was torturing me.

This person _had_ to know me. How else would they know about my dislike for Valentine's Day, my pull towards mysteries, and my inability to let things go until I had figured out everything I could?

I was scared for the decision I _had_ to make (because I wouldn't be able to sleep deeply again until I had made one).

I was anxious of Emmeline's reaction.

I was nervous because Mary's unfinished story about that owl-mail relationship was playing throughout my mind…if I did write back, would this turn into something? A _relationship_? I shuddered, pulling my duvet over my stomach protectively.

Why couldn't anything at Hogwarts ever be simple?

Well, I knew one thing: This could be so potentially dangerous and reckless. At least I was alert enough to realize that despite my growing curiosity.

…

Oh, for the love of petunias, it was just a stupid _letter_. What could possibly be so bad about a few lines of ink written from a quill onto a piece of white parchment?

The answer came in the form of Emmeline's strict voice from within my subconscious.

_The person _with_ the quill._

Twisting in my sheets, I slammed my pillow over my head, trying to block out _everything_. Merlin, if anything I wanted to write back only to yell at the imbecile for screwing with my mind.

…

This Pr. person had to be a guy, because only a bloke could take something as simple as an apology and make it so undeniably complicated.

* * *

_Hmm, well, I hoped you enjoyed it. Please feel free to leave a review with any suggestions/comments/or absolutely random thoughts. :) I hope you're all having a wonderful day wherever you may be! As for me, I have to go summer job hunting again...oh joy._

_Until next time!_

_--HeyLookTheSnitch_


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **_Dannng, if I were a bazillionaire like JK Rowling, I wouldn't have to stress about getting a summer job...oh, what a wonderful life that would be_!

**A/N:** _Thank you so incredibly much to: Zozotheterrible, Violin Ghost, Cristipotter, Frecklednproud, A-Lady, tiger17lily, Mouse and Stupid Productions, blackdog-moosie, Bellas-lullaby, Tyem Marodyor, JadeLA, preacherskid08, Sprut, XxlEmOnDrOpxX, coffee dessert, LadyAkina, Magical Singer Gal, Zhangie., Brittany, starcrossedvoyager, grayx3eyesdsoul, Lucykevinfan, muddy worm, SoManyObsessions, bella Sutton, austenfan92, Lendielstar, and Cherrykisses21. You all rock my world! :)_

_So, only about three of you got replies for your reviews, because when I tried to do the rest of them fanfiction wouldn't let me sign in (some of you seemed to have had that trouble too). And then when I could sign in I forgot who I had already sent replies to, and then I became confused...and there we go. lol So, this time around, if fanfiction doesn't go wonky again, I'll do my best to get replies to all of you! But know that I read each review and they all mean a WHOLE lot to me! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Man, I'm really getting good at this updating thing, aren't I? Gotta love summer!_

_Happy reading!_

* * *

**Chapter 2: Typically Potter**

_Into the rush now,  
You don't have to know how,  
Know it all before you try.  
_--Rush, Aly and AJ

* * *

"Morning, Evans."

My innards shuddered at the sound of the voice, and I clutched my goblet of juice a little too tightly; my knuckles turned white.

"Goodbye, Potter."

I really was not in any mood to deal with his obscurities today.

"Oh, touchy."

There was a small struggle as the messy haired bane of my existence scrambled into a place on the bench adorning the left side of the Gryffindor house table…directly across from me.

Typical.

I rolled my eyes as Potter wiggled his bum around a bit, as if to get comfortable, before lifting his angular face to look directly at me.

Merlin, the whole reason I came down to breakfast this early was because of a hope to be by myself. I had always been an early riser, but I deliberately woke up at this ungodly hour so that I wouldn't have to face Mary or Emmeline until I had made a decision on my own. Mary was still fast asleep, curled up into a ball in the middle of her bed, while Emmeline—I only assumed—had gone on a jog around the lake; she had a habit of doing some sort of physical activity whenever something was tugging at her mind.

And now here I was, sitting here with Potter—on Valentine's Day—with only a few witnesses and a wand in my pocket.

"So, know what day it is, Evans?" Potter asked me as he reached across the table, making sure to brush his fingers against my hand with a smirk, as he picked up a croissant from a platter.

Repulsed at the contact, I immediately snapped my hand away and placed both of them in my lap, closer to my wand if the occasion happened to arise. I should've known something like that was coming; Potter had developed a nasty habit of touching me in even the slightest way possible every time he got close enough.

Stupid, _stupid_ boy.

"Tuesday," I answered innocently, shrugging as if to dismiss his question as unimportant with a tone of forced tolerance. He was not going to get away with playing dumb with me—he knew perfectly well what the day was today.

I really disliked Potter.

"No, the _date_."

My eyes narrowed instinctively, ruining my strained aura of serenity; my temper with James Potter could only last so long when he used immature mind tricks on me. He was obviously toying with me, something that I'd gotten used to over the years, but nonetheless still bugged me to know end. "The fourteenth," I replied, trying to stop my teeth from clenching.

Honestly, I really did have no patience for his games today, couldn't he see that? I could practically feel the little letter from last night burning a hole in the schoolbag by my hip.

Potter waved his knife at me as if scolding me for being immature. Pot calling the kettle black, much? "Not just the fourteenth, Evans, but the fourteenth of _February_," he leaned towards me with his elbows just narrowly missing the butter dish, and I pushed myself a bit further back in order to keep a safe distance between us; one could never be too safe when around James Potter…something could possibly explode. "Do you know what that means?"

I did, in fact, know perfectly well what that meant, thank you very much; I was simply too keen to _not_ feed into Potter's tricky hands. I grinned slightly. "It means I have a double period of History of Magic this morning, I suppose."

Ha. Take that you annoying piece of dirt.

Potter groaned in feigned agitation as he threw his hands up into the air and then slammed them back onto the table in front of him, causing my goblet to shake precariously. If he spilt my juice, he would have another thing coming.

"You know, Evans, if I knew my eyes weren't deceiving me, I'd say there's no way you're a girl," he commented lightly, despite his grand show of melodramatics.

"Git," I said to him, chucking the crust of my toast at him. Of course, I should have guessed that with his 'oh-so amazing Quidditch reflexes' that my attempt to hit him would be futile. Just as I'd thought, James simply plucked the piece of bread seemingly out of the air and threw it behind him carelessly, something that made my blood boil; who did he think would pick that up?

The nerve…

"So, Valentine's Day again, Evans," James continued easily, as if the topic held no significance to him whatsoever. However, his attempt at nonchalance was ruined by the fact that just mere minutes earlier he'd been practically begging me to admit to him that I knew today was the lovey-mushy holiday of the year.

Not to mention that he'd already wished me a happy love-holiday yesterday…

"It appears so, Potter."

"Be mine?"

I just barely resisted a gag. "I don't really fancy being considered a possession of James Potter," I told him truthfully, only wanting him to leave…what did a woman have to do to read a letter in private around here?

Potter grinned and shrugged…oh, and there went the hand in the hair, the ruffling that so bothered me for some inexplicable reason. "Aw well," he commented, "better luck year next year." He almost sounded bored; perhaps my rejection wasn't up to his normal standard.

Too bad for him.

Sparing him further humiliation due to his hopeless persistence, I simply rolled my eyes. "So," I began, "where's your usual gang?" I hoped that by bringing up his mates he'd turn and leave me be. All four of them were practically joined at the hip; wherever one was, the other three were sure to be not far behind. It was like Little Bo Peep and her lost sheep…

"Oh, you know," he began waving his hand around in the air, "here and there…possibly stuck in a broom cupboard, maybe hanging upside down in some lone hallway…"

My mouth dropped open…surely he was joking. My Prefect instincts flared up inside of me again. "Potter, if you have done anything—"

"Relax, Evans, it was a joke."

His hazel eyes twinkled as he laughed at how gullible he thought I was at times like these. I really did understand jokes, thanks—if only he knew that I was thinking about starting a pen-pal relationship with one of the Marauders, Potter's prank enemy.

While he continued to shed tears of mirth—alright, maybe that was exaggerating things a tad bit—I crossed my arms indignantly and subtly slipped my hand into my bag, feeling the crisp parchment that was my letter. I couldn't help myself. I wondered if Potter would notice if I took it out and read it in my lap…

At that moment, Sirius Black entered in a casual flourish of dark robes, his hair swept neatly across his forehead and his schoolbag thrown messily over his shoulders. He seemed to immediately seek out his best mate, ignoring the adoring eyes of the females in the room, as he strutted towards where Potter and I sat, carrying himself with his usual haughty presence and mischievous, sneaky, smile.

Great, with two of them around, I definitely wouldn't be able to read anything without being asked questions.

I groaned.

"I let the owl out," was the first thing that Black said as he gracefully lowered himself into a spot beside Potter, his school bag lying dropped and forgotten on the ground at his feet.

"Excellent…the worm isn't a nervous, twitchy wreck?" James replied back.

"No, mate, left Remus in charge."

"Brilliant."

Both boys smiled at each other, quite happy and oblivious to the confused girl across from them.

Owl?

Worm?

Remus?

_What_?

Those two were always so strange.

Not to mention that usually following these odd conversations were mundane, immature pranks. It was almost as if the four friends—well, at least Black and Potter anyways—were trying to rival the Marauders; a hard feat, really, considering Potter and Black's attempts at pranks were like minuscule cockroach clusters compared to the Marauders'.

The curiosity that was so present last night sparked again as my mind wandered to the Marauders…for all I knew, Pr. could be sitting at this very table…and for a moment I completely didn't care if Black and Potter were planning to blow up the Gryffindor table.

Wait—I take that back. I would give them detentions like there was no tomorrow and then I'd retreat back into my mystifying daydreams.

So, I peered at the two boys, glancing from one to the other—though I was much more comfortable glancing at Black because Potter usually took the advantage to wink at me. "Please tell me you're not trying to grow an infestation of worms in your dormitory," I said wearily, pushing my probing thoughts of this Pr. person to the side for the moment, not wanting Potter or Black to notice that I wasn't one-hundred percent there.

Sirius glanced at me, then back to his friend, both smirking uncontrollably now. "Nah, no breeding taking place here, Evans," Sirius reassured me, though it comforted my suspicion about as much as a rampaging dragon would.

Yeah, their smirks _were_ saying otherwise.

"Well, unless you count that breed of Flobberworms we grew two months ago," James replied airily, his glasses slipping down his narrow nose in his excitement as he leaned towards me.

I scooted backwards just narrowly avoiding falling off the back of the bench.

"You know, just last week I found one of them in my sock," Sirius commented just as lightly.

And the two friends immediately launched into laughter, reminiscing about who knows what and not even trying to include me whatsoever…Not that I particularly minded, though.

So, thinking that I would simply excuse myself and whisk off to the library for some much needed peace and quiet—okay, so I was really going to examine my note again—I began pushing myself away from the table. Potter and Black hardly noticed, too busy whispering to each other in low, quick voices.

"Lily, there you are!"

Oh, great.

"'Morning, Mary," I said as she literally bounced over to where I was sitting in the ill-company of Potter and Black. She threw her bag onto the floor by her feet and slid happily into a spot beside me. Her guilty mood from late last night seemed to have evaporated with sleep. Or maybe it was simply because Emmeline had yet to show up.

Mary glanced at me, her damp hair—from a shower, no doubt—flinging drops of water onto the plate of toast as she turned her head. "So, any thoughts on the letter?" she asked me simply.

"Mary!" I hissed quickly, kicking her foot underneath the table. I looked quickly at Potter and Black; they were watching us with innocent expressions now.

Dear Godric, my morning just kept getting better and better. The last thing I needed was Potter breathing down my back.

"What?" Mary inquired, pulling her hair into a messy bun, "I was just curious…"

"Got yourself an admirer for Valentine's Day, Evans?" Potter asked.

I cringed, throwing an awful look at Mary. "Even if I have, that's none of your business, Potter."

He regarded me with polite interest, his hazel eyes twinkling strangely from behind his glasses. He clapped his hands together once and then crossed them across his chest. "Eh, I suppose you're right." My eyes narrowed; since when did Potter let things drop so easily? Even Sirius was looking at him oddly, his piece of toast hovering an inch from his open mouth. But then, just as quickly, Black shook his head and regained his cool persona.

With a swift look, Black glanced down at this wristwatch. Then, as if he had seen something that had caused him to hurry, he ripped a large piece from his toast, threw the rest onto his nearly empty plate, and stood up in one fluid motion—Black really was an overly poised creature. "Well, we have Flobberworms to attend to," he nodded at me, smirking, "James, you coming?"

"Wait," Mary suddenly said. All three of us looked at her—she wouldn't? Would she? Oh, dear…"Did Remus get an owl last night?" she asked simply.

Oh, smart girl. I released my held breath.

Something flashed across Potter's face. "No," he answered automatically, and it sounded like he was trying very hard to control some sort of unexplained excitement—my stomach flipped uncomfortably at his answer—and then he quickly masked his loss of control, "Why? Did you send him a _love_ note?"

A small blush erupted across Mary's cheekbones. Valentine's Day really did bring out the worst in people. "You can leave now," my friend said in an annoyed fashion.

I nodded in strong agreement, my mind buzzing.

"Well, have a good morning, then" James told us. As he hopped over the back of the bench in a very boyish manner, he reached into his bag and pulled something out. The next thing I knew, he had thrown something at me, and even more miraculously, I had caught it.

It was a pink-covered, heart-shaped chocolate from the Marauders' prank yesterday. "See you ladies in class," he said, and then the two friends strutted out of the Great Hall.

I followed their backs the whole way out. Rolling the chocolate between my fingers, I quickly composed myself—they were gone.

"Huh," Mary expressed, her teeth biting the bottom of her lip thoughtfully.

I knew what she was thinking; Remus, a Gryffindor Prefect, hadn't received an apology last night…

Mary must have seen my hand enter my bag.

"So, going to write him back?" Mary asked flamboyantly, flipping out of her thoughts as casually as anything, slathering strawberry jam onto her pancakes.

"Or her," I interceded pointlessly, for I was completely of the opinion that Pr. was, in fact, a male. Why else would he single out a girl?

Mary rolled her brown eyes. "Look, do you want to hear the end of the book I told you about yesterday?" she asked matter-of-factly even though the request seemed oddly random to me.

I looked at her. "I thought you were afraid of ruining the story?"

My blonde friend simply waved her hand in my face. "I only said that because I didn't want Emmeline to gloat."

I paled slightly. "So, it's safe to assume that this novel didn't have a happy ending?"

Mary grinned slyly. "Well, the person _was_ a man, and that's all that really matters—I mean," her little face screwed up in concentration, " he ended up following her to a pub and slipping a love potion into her firewhisky, but the chances of _that_ happening…"

My hand retracted from the note slightly. "_What_?" I said slightly louder than normal, my paranoid Prefect side of my personality coming out yet again…sometimes I felt like I suffered from schizophrenia.

"Be rational, Lily," she told me, "you don't even _drink_ firewhisky…"

Right, because that settled everything.

Quite suddenly, I found myself folding two pieces of toast into a clean napkin, taking one last sip of my juice, and then grabbing my bag and throwing it over my shoulder. I stood up, stumbling over the back of the bench.

"I'm going to go to the library," I told her, straightening my school robes.

Mary watched me expectantly. "Have fun reading the letter."

"Shut up," I replied.

In less than five minutes I was making my way through the stacks of books to my favorite table; it was located in the back of the library, tucked away in a corner hidden by two six-foot high shelves. A large window overlooked the grounds and the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

I carefully placed my bag on one of the empty seats and placed myself in another one. Ten seconds later, the mysterious note was in front of me, and my elbow was placed on the table with my head in my hand, my long red hair creating a curtain around me.

After I had read it two times, it had done nothing but heighten my burning curiosity and strengthen my anxiety for making a decision.

"Lily?"

I jumped, forgetting that people could actually find me in the library.

"Hey, Sev," I greeted pleasantly, shoving my bag onto the floor so he could take the seat next to me.

"Don't you have class in thirty minutes?" he asked me, his stringy black hair falling into his eyes.

"Don't you?" I retorted. It was a mark of our good friendship that he didn't even bother wishing me a Happy Valentine's Day.

He glared for a second, but then shrugged. "Defense Against the Dark Arts…I know everything, anyways."

"Always modest," I mocked him darkly.

His dark, beady eyes roamed over me for a second and then landed on something by my elbow. "What's that?" he asked.

I knew what he was talking about without even following his gaze. Sometimes, Sev was too observant for his own good.

Shoot.

I subtly shifted my elbow over the note and pushed it out of his line of sight. "Nothing, just a note…"

"An admirer?" he questioned thickly, his eyes narrowing for a split second. What was it with people thinking I had an admirer? Couldn't it simply just be a letter from my mother? Godric, Sev could be so overprotective of me.

I rolled my eyes. "No, not exactly."

"Potter." He spat, a little bit of drool actually escaping from his mouth. It wasn't a question.

"Calm down, Severus. And even if it was Potter, do you think I'd be sitting here reading it?"

"I would hope not."

There was a brief silence, and I tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. I could feel the parchment rubbing underneath my elbow…and then a thought hit me. Brilliant. "Hey, Sev, did Mulciber get a letter last night?"

Severus's far-away gaze snapped back into reality as he watched my face thoroughly. "No. Why?" For a short second, I could've sworn that his probing eyes shot to the note underneath my arm. I could tell he was jumpy today.

"No reason," I answered, trying to sound innocent. His eyes were still attached to my note. I silently folded it and placed it into my bag securely, pretending that I didn't notice his stare. For some reason, I didn't want Severus to find out about my letter. He didn't particularly like the Marauders, for reasons I wasn't exactly sure of—he acted as if he had a person vendetta against them. In other words, he would belligerently deter me from writing back to Pr. if he knew.

"I've got Potions in ten," I told him, picking up my bag and watching him. "I'll see you in History of Magic."

He caught my wrist as I turned. I shook it free. He ignored it. "What'd Potter give to you at breakfast?" he asked rapidly.

I looked into his unnaturally pale face. "What…?" I hadn't even seen Severus at breakfast; had he really been there?

"He likes you, you know," he told me, his voice laden with disgust and disapproval.

I rolled my eyes, trying to shake of his threatening tone of voice. "Unlucky for him then; I'll see you later."

Honestly, something must have happened between Potter and Sev; there was so much animosity between them. I mean, I knew that Potter and Black always picked on him, and their immature pranks were usually at his expense, but I found it hard to believe that stuff as silly as that could break through Severus's tough exterior. Potter had even saved Sev's life earlier this year—the one thing that had redeemed Potter a tad bit in my eyes. I could only guess that it had something to do with Severus's ridiculously prejudiced theory about Remus Lupin…

As for my letter, I had found out one thing. Neither Remus nor Mulciber had been visited by a strange owl last night. Although, what person in their right mind would _want _to write to Mulciber? Regardless, the Prefects hadn't received a note from the Marauders. It was only me. What made me so special? Why did this Pr. guy feel compelled to apologize to me?

I wanted to know.

OOO

Classes were a nightmare. I couldn't concentrate. Half the time I was battling it out with the two forces in my mind as I felt the note in my bag, like it was a ten pound brick rather than a piece of parchment. The other half of the time, I was actually battling it out with Emmeline and Mary, who both hadn't changed their views at all. However, Emmeline seemed to be trying a new tactic; she had begun to simply stare at me, without muttering a word, while shaking her head back and forth in a manner that screamed with disappointment.

I also found myself looking at each person in my classes with more care than usual, wondering if any of them might be Pr. It was extremely annoying, especially since some boys in my year thought I was staring at them with a _specific_ interest—bloody Valentine's Day.

I knew I couldn't go on like this. Not knowing had to be worse than finding out that Pr. was a female…or a stalker who would follow me around, slipping potions into my drinks. And it wasn't like I had to tell him anything about me…no, it could simply just be a response to his letter, something to tell him that I didn't hold any ill-feelings towards him or his pranks.

Yes, that would _have_ to quench my thirst for curiosity of what would happen if I wrote him back.

Besides, I was sick of my professors asking me if everything was alright because I seemed a bit tired and confused today.

So, it was with extreme relief that I ran up to the Owlery after dinner with the small, fluffy owl that must belong to the Marauders on my arm. I suppose I could have done it in the dormitory, but I didn't want to hear Mary's girlish squeals and unnecessary advice or see Emmeline's silent look of displeasure.

I arrived at the top of the spiraling steps a little out of breath. I scoped out a little spot of floor that wasn't yet covered in owl-waste, and I sat myself down there, leaning my back against the wall behind me. Owls hooted and flapped their wings around me as I pulled out my charms textbook, a piece of paper, and a bottle of ink and a quill.

Feeling a tad antsy—like this could very well be a mistake—I placed the clean paper on top of my thick textbook, took a deep breath, and was just about to dip my quill in my black ink when—

"Fancy seeing you here, Evans."

I placed my quill down beside me heavily, my heart hammering wildly from the recent fear of my sudden interruption. How did Potter _always _find me? He always seemed to know just where I would be at any given moment…

His eyes zoomed over the blank parchment and his eyes brightened as he approached me. "Writing back to your admirer?"

"What are you doing here, Potter?" I sighed.

"Just here to annoy the hell out of you—I'm sending a _letter_, what else would I be here for? Play-date with the owls?" he suggested sarcastically, holding up a sealed note in his hand as he approached a large, majestic-looking barn owl.

"I wouldn't be surprised," I murmured quietly.

He glanced at me, amused. Then his hazel orbs swiveled to the small owl who was sitting patiently beside me. "Nice bird," he commented; something in his tone made me aware that he was mocking the poor thing. Just because it wasn't huge and royally black like his—

"It's not mine," I found myself saying automatically.

A light sparked in his pupils, his face turning up into a grin; a look of realization. "Aw, the admirer's then?"

I groaned agitatedly, throwing my hands up in the air. "Can you just send your letter and leave?" I asked sharply, nearly to the point of banging my head against the wall. I could only stay sane for so long in his presence. He just pressed me the wrong way… I couldn't explain what exactly it was about Potter—perhaps it was his playful attitude, almost always crossing the line of being flirtatious.

Ugh. Gross.

As usual, he ignored me and my obvious annoyance towards him being here with me. "So, you going to write the bloke back or what?" he asked me, tying the letter to his owl's leg.

"Ugh, I dunno, Potter," I exclaimed.

I immediately wanted to whip out my wand and reverse time—if there was such a spell. I almost clapped my hand over my mouth. Almost. But that would have looked idiotic.

"Aw, so there _is_ a mysterious man in your life," he said knowingly, winking. "Well, there goes my plan to ask you out to Hogsmeade next weekend."

I automatically felt the heat rush to my cheeks at his foolish light-heartedness. The hotness of my face heightened as he winked casually. Gah, I could just kill him right now.

"The door's open, you know," I said none too politely, waving my hand towards the open doorway, hinting not so subtly that he should leave.

Again, he ignored me.

"So, who is the guy?" he asked curiously, approaching me and stopping at my feet which were spread out in front of me. I hastily drew my knees to my chest, the textbook and parchment scrunched up between my legs and my upper body.

I glared at him and didn't answer. What was I going to say? 'Uh, well, actually, Potter, I have no idea who this person is…he's a Marauder though.' Merlin, even in my own head it sounded lame. And, no doubt, it would only give him reason to tease me further.

"Well, go on, write," he pressured me, smirking. He turned slightly, as if he were about to walk away—of which I would have been entirely grateful—but then he spun and faced me again. I recoiled slightly. He was smiling eerily, and he straightened his back. His eyes locked with mine. "Unless you're afraid of him."

My eyes narrowed even more than they already were. "Why in the world would I be afraid of him?" I questioned, wanting to defend myself in his arrogant presence. Deep down, however, I knew I was a little frightened of what could happen, if not how my friends would react. It was almost as if Potter had entered my brain and picked apart my thoughts.

Jerk.

"_Well_," he said, looking at his fingernails before turning his gaze back to me, "blokes aren't usually people you like to associate yourself with," he answered easily, almost with an unbearable cocky attitude like he knew that I knew he was one hundred percent correct.

Darn him.

"Bugger off, Potter."

He shrugged, the smirk still apparent on his face. "All I'm saying is that this guy is probably getting anxious, so try to be a _brave_ sport and write him back."

I clutched the book tighter to my chest as he turned away from me again, heading— at long last— for the door. Why in the world would Potter encourage me to—?

"Oh, and Evans," I glanced at him wearily, "how about Hogsmeade, Saturday?"

I glowered as his smirk widened, his hand already mussing up his hair. "Go away."

"Only for you," he replied, stepping over the threshold, waving once, and then disappearing down the steps.

I could hear his heavy footsteps as they stomped down the staircase. I let out a long breath that I hadn't been aware I was holding. The owl beside me made an odd, impatient hooting sound, as if it was trying to tell me it wouldn't wait around much longer.

Bloody Potter…I would never admit to _anyone_, especially him, that he was the one who ultimately pushed me over the edge; I picked up my quill and jabbed it into my bottle of ink resolutely.

With a deep soothing breath—because there was no way I could write coherently with Potter on my mind— I began to write.

_Dear Pr._

_You know, you nearly threw the girls' dormitory into complete disarray last night with your note, but, other than that, no hard feelings. Your prank was interesting and cleaning wasn't so bad…though, it would have been better if Dumbledore had had pity and gotten rid of the mess himself._

_So, I suppose all is forgiven. Just try to refrain from using non-vanishing spells from now on._

_Lily Evans_

_PS—I would say Happy Valentine's Day if it wouldn't sound so fake and forced, so there you go._

* * *

_And chapter two is officially completed! Next chapter will be sixth year, and then it gets into the juicy stuff! lol Also, I've had a couple people ask me how long I think this story will be: Well, I'm counting on at least 20 chapters; it will probably end up being somewhere between 20-25 chapters. Hm, yeah, that sounds about right. _

_Well, if you've made it this far, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! A fictional character of your choice if you review! :) _

_Thanks again!_

_--HeyLookTheSnitch_


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** _Anything that seems familiar belongs to Rowling._

**A/N:** _Holy smokes! Thanks so much for the reviews everyone! And thanks for adding me to favorites and alerts. :) It makes me so happy! My thanks go to: Ellesra, -Jeisa-, LadyAkina, Cherrykisses21, PenguinBuddy, Rashadian, A-Lady, chattypandagurl, ParadiseDreams, Mixora, grayx3eyedsoul, e.jameson, iheartjamesandlily, Bellas-lullaby, Magical Singer Gal, bookworm2butterfly, starcrossedvoyager, Loves to dance, Frecklednproud, XxlEmOnDrOpxX, aurinkosi, zozotheterrible, SoManyObsessions, LucyKevinfan, Tyem Marodyor, Violin Ghost, Sprut, Falling Rain Forever, and coffee dessert. You ROCK! (Oh, dear, that sound from Camp Rock just came into my head...)_

_So, thanks for reading this guys, seriously! Hm, this chapter seems odd to me...there are some parts that I like a lot, and some parts that seem a little forced and overall just iffy. But, I've worked hard on this, and I don't know what else to do to change it to make it better, so here we go! This chapter takes place in sixth year. _

_Have fun reading!_

* * *

**Chapter 3: Sixth Year Changes**

_You used to talk to me like  
I was the only one around…  
You used to walk with me like  
We had nowhere we needed to go,  
Nice and slow, to no place in particular_.  
--Used To, Chris Daughtry

* * *

It was funny how quickly things could change.

…

Actually, no, it really wasn't.

It was, in fact, pretty annoying.

So, imagine my frustration when I boarded the Hogwarts' Express on the morning of September 1st, 1975—it was a beautiful day; very sunny, not a cloud in the sky, which is a rarity in London—and ran smack dab into James Potter…and he barely even flinched.

Very maddening, indeed…

O

I found myself on the other side of the magical barrier between platforms nine and ten, facing a large awaiting deep red train. A large grin threatened to take up my entire freckled face—which was exhilarating because I had spent half of my summer scowling with Petunia and her boyfriend in the house. I breathed in deeply, reveling in the familiar smells of steam engines and owl droppings.

I coughed slightly as the air prickled the back of my throat; aw well, it still smelled familiar.

For a second, I simply stood there—happy to be going back to school—until I realized that at any moment someone could come barreling through the barrier and crash right into me. I grabbed my trolley and pushed it out of the way, weaving between families as I approached a carriage of the train with its doors open wide and welcoming.

And now I faced the most difficult challenge of the start of any school term: lifting my trunk onto the train. Now, usually there was a conductor or an older student nearby to help if someone was so lucky, but as I looked around, I realized that most of the passengers were already on the train; five minutes until departure. I had really cut it close this year.

Dang. Luck always seemed to bypass me on its way.

How I wished I was old enough to use magic outside of school.

I placed my hands on either side of my trunk, braced my feet against the ground firmly, and heaved. I swear I heard my back pop. Or maybe it had been my hamstring…After many failed attempts and even more painful ones, I had finally achieved the hideous task of getting my trunk onto the train. Even more amazing was I had only suffered one swollen toe in the process.

I had even rolled my trunk two feet down the narrow corridor.

I was feeling quite accomplished.

And then something rammed into me.

At first I thought it was my trunk, thinking that it had somehow begun to roll backwards (no matter how illogical that sounded), but then I felt an arm wrap around my waist, steadying me.

"Sorry about that," my savior said, straightening me on my own two feet.

It felt like my trunk _had _just rammed me in the chest.

The voice was deeper than I remembered, a little bit pleasant, and horribly familiar.

My breath caught in my throat and my hip suddenly burned where his hand had been moments earlier. I really hated it when _he_ touched me—saving me or not; it always made me feel clammy.

I shot a glance at him.

His dark hair was as messy as ever, as if he'd just finished and won the Quidditch World Cup; his glasses perched on his tan nose. A simple dark blue tee-shirt clung to his chest, which I couldn't help but notice seemed to be firmer than I recalled.

I quickly shifted my gaze and stepped to the side a few inches; his bare forearm fell from where it had been resting on my lower back. My ankles hit the edge of my trunk and I stumbled slightly into the wall of the train corridor.

"Potter," I greeted simply, forcing my blush back and smoothing out my green shirt (I hadn't put on my robes yet; most students didn't, considering they had to walk through a Muggle train station to get to the Express).

His eyes glanced at me quickly from underneath his dark eyelashes, and then he grinned politely and turned his head away from me. "I have to run; I'll see you at the feast," was his only greeting—and apparently parting words—before he strolled down the corridor in the opposite direction, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

He left me completely gob-smacked.

What the—

What was _that?_

It didn't even seem like he had even acknowledged that it had been _me_ he had had in his arms.

That was not normal behavior for James Potter.

I subconsciously brushed off the place at my waist where his arm had rested on mine for that brief second.

Huh. Well, that had been odd.

Before I could dwell on Potter's bizarre, abnormal self, I heard my name being called. Still slightly dazed, I raised my head and saw Mary's head sticking out from a compartment, her slender hand waving me down. So, trying to shove Potter's unusual manners to the back of my mind, I started the impossible task of moving my trunk once again.

"Bloody trunk is too heavy," I puffed as I finally entered the compartment. I pushed my hair out of my eyes only to see a brief image of Emmeline sitting quietly on one of the seats before a mass of blonde hair attacked me.

"Oh, Lily, I missed you so much," Mary squealed excitedly, holding me at arm's length to observe me.

"Calm down, Mary," I told her, not bothering to mention the fact that we had spent a day in Diagon Alley together two weeks ago. Mary tended to always act like we'd been apart for months, even if it had only been a few days. It grew on me, eventually.

"Yeah," Emmeline brought up, her face amused, "long time no see."

Mary ignored Em. "You got so freckly again!" she exclaimed, her honey eyes scanning my face eagerly.

I was sure there had been just as many the last time I saw her…"Curse of being a redhead," I said simply, grinning, before turning to Emmeline. "Hey, Em," I greeted.

I wondered if she had gotten over the whole Pr. episode over the summer; at the end of last year, she had still thought I was stupid for writing to the mysterious Marauder. Since that Valentine's Day, I had received two more letters (meaning two more pranks I had to help clean up, although, thankfully, Pr. had listened to me and hadn't used anymore non-vanishing spells, though he continued to tell me it took the joy out of it all). Emmeline had turned a blind eye and a deaf ear whenever a letter showed up. I could only keep telling myself that she would get over it eventually.

Emmeline smiled nicely, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. "How are you?" she asked me, crossing her legs and watching me with interest. Emmeline's habit of being subdued and Mary's high-on-life personality balanced each other quite nicely.

"Fairly well, although, do I look _normal_ to you?" I asked my friends, holding up a clump of my hair and staring at it. I admit, I did see a new hair stylist over the summer, but why would Potter have acted like he had no clue as to who I was?

It was bothering me more than it should have.

I told myself it must be the mystery of it.

Mary peered at me. "A little tanner, but nothing out of the ordinary; nice haircut," she added as an afterthought.

"Why do you ask?" Emmeline questioned me, her blue eyes curious but reserved.

"Potter rammed right into me and hardly said a word," I explained, shrugging as if it didn't really matter…even though it was driving me crazy.

Emmeline's chest deflated slightly as she breathed out heavily; no doubt she was happy I was talking about Potter and not a certain Marauder.

"Maybe he didn't realize it was you," Em suggested, tapping her foot distractedly on the floor of the train.

"Or maybe he realized the hopelessness of chasing after you and courageously decided to step down from the hunt," Mary explained rather dramatically.

I nodded silently and turned to look out the window as Emmeline muttered a quiet, "_Honestly," _under her breath; the overcrowded buildings of London were quickly flying past us as the train sped northward. Perhaps Potter _hadn't_ noticed me…but then I remembered how quickly he had looked at me, surprise evident in his eyes as he swiftly scanned my face, and then how he had turned away just as quickly—_great_; another mystery to add to my list.

Speaking of mysteries…I shook my head, not wanting to start anything in Emmeline's presence just yet.

"So, how were the rest of your summers?" I asked in order to distract myself. Thankfully, Mary latched onto the topic and immediately launched into a very detailed account of her trip to Ireland.

And even as Mary finished and Emmeline began to recount her stories, I couldn't shake off the suspicion that Potter had flat-out ignored me…where was Pr. when I needed a distraction? I could only hope that the Marauders had a prank planned for tonight…preferably something that would be fast and easy to clean up—

Darn it, why would Potter act like that?

It wasn't until later that night, in the Common Room, after the sorting hat had placed the new students in their houses and after the House Elves had seriously out-done themselves for the feast, that my suspicion that Potter was ignoring me grew even stronger. The first years had headed off to bed early, too nervous and excited for their first day of lessons; the fifth years had already started to enjoy their later curfew and the seventh years were obviously too bored with the Common Room to hang around for long. Only a few third and fourth years scattered the couches, leaving us with a nearly empty room.

So, Em, Mary, and I had decided to experiment with origami; Emmeline's grandmother was born and raised in China and had passed on the art to Emmeline as a young child. We were having fun creating swans and cranes, and when that became dull, we began bewitching them to fly around us.

"They're nice, aren't they?" Mary asked us, eying her swan as she directed it through the air gracefully with her wand.

Emmeline rolled her eyes. "Wow, we _must_ be bored."

We all chuckled, and I followed Mary's bird as it flew around the perimeter of the room. A second year boy tried to jump up and catch it with the laughter of his mates egging him on; a group of giggling third year girls eyed the bird with awe. The little thing then breezed over the heads of four boys sitting by the fire.

I found myself irreversibly staring at the back of James Potter's head.

Why hadn't Potter talked to me? Did our argument by the lake at the end of last year finally deflate his oversized ego? I admit, I hadn't reserved or censored any of my thoughts that day after our O.W.L's…had my words actually punctured a hole in his brain?

And then Mary's swan landed on my head.

One thing led to another, and soon enough I found myself thinking of something that was stupid and completely immature, but I had to know what was going on with Potter.

"Wingardium Leviosa," I muttered, pointing my wand at my attempt of a paper swan. It immediately lifted into the air; I uttered another charm and my creation was now under my influence. In less than a second, my swan was flying towards Potter's neck…fast.

"Lily, what are you—?"

I ignored my friends' confused expressions, and I watched victoriously as Potter clamped a large hand to the back of his neck where the pointy beak of my swan and jammed into his skin.

"I better go apologize," I told Emmeline and Mary swiftly.

With a distinct purpose in mind, I marched over to where Potter and his friends were sitting. Black was lounging casually on the sofa, one of his muscled arms hanging over the back of the couch as his other hand twirled his wand carelessly. Peter was watching Sirius as the epitome of cool told a joke which caused Pettigrew to snort with laughter. Potter was currently observing the little swan that had just pricked him…my swan. Remus Lupin was the first to see me approach.

"Hello, Lily," Remus greeted pleasantly.

I nodded, my eyes remaining on Potter as I moved between the sofa and armchair to face the boys. "That's mine, Potter. Sorry," I said, holding out my hand expectantly.

Potter didn't even so much as look at me, but he shrugged, so I definitely knew he had heard me. "It would take more than that to do me in. No harm done, Evans."

Ha! He said my name! He _did _know who I was, thank Merlin; I had been thinking for a second that Black had slammed Potter's head in a door—

Wait. Why did I _care? _I shouldn't—I didn't.

At least I had found my answer; Potter was just being an ignorant jerk, as usual.

His eyes flickered from my outstretched hand back to his friends.

If we just being an idiot, then why was he acting like my face was something hideous? He still wasn't looking at me!

My eyes narrowed suspiciously as he shoved the paper swan back into my awaiting hand and then turned to Sirius. "Hey, mates, did you hear of the one where the warlock, centaur, and goblin enter a pub and…"

Remus watched me for a second, and I tried to keep my face innocent and blank enough; my lips were threatening to pucker in annoyance while my fist had clamped over the poor piece of origami like a bear trap. He glanced from me, to his friends, and then back to me hesitantly. "Uh…you have the Prefect schedule, right?"

For some reason, even Remus's simple question about Prefect duty got me riled up at that moment. "Yes," I answered thickly before I stalked back over to my friends without a backward glance.

I threw myself down onto the carpeted floor at their feet, banging my head against the back of the couch. "Well," I began in a huff, "this is annoying."

"Don't take it personally," Mary said easily as she began to braid my hair, "hey, too bad there wasn't a prank tonight."

I closed my eyes, feeling a migraine. "Yes, too bad…"

I could almost feel the tension radiating off of Emmeline, who was sitting with her legs crossed in an armchair. Ending this conversation now was probably a good idea. "I think I'm going to head upstairs," I told them, hoping they wouldn't follow.

"Alright," Mary said, dropping my hair from her fingers, "there's a boy over there I've been wanting to talk to anyways."

Emmeline tried hard not to sound sarcastic. "Of _course_ there is; go ahead, Lily, I'll be up as soon as I see that Mary, here, isn't going to make a fool out of herself."

Mary huffed defiantly as she picked herself up the sofa and flounced away. I stood up, suddenly wanting to be in my pajamas very much. I hoped the House Elves had turned down my duvet…"Alright; 'night."

I carried myself up the winding staircase and threw open the door that led into the sixth year girls' dormitory. Closing the door softly behind me, I leaned my back against it for a second, breathing deeply and massaging my temples.

Potter's attitude was messing me up more than I should have been allowing it to.

I crossed the cold wooden floor and opened my trunk, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and an overlarge tee-shirt. As I pulled out my PJs, a purple notebook caught my eye; Pr.'s letters. I had begun to store them inside the notebook that I had gotten from Mary for Christmas last year—I think it was originally supposed to be a diary, but I didn't have the will-power or patience to keep a journal. I pulled out the notebook, my heart already racing even though I'd already read the letters about a hundred times before.

A distraction is just what I needed to get James-imbecile-Potter off of my mind.

In less than two minutes I had stripped off my school uniform and Prefect's badge and had slipped into my pajamas and underneath my sheets (which _had _been turned down—thank you, House Elves!)

The first letter stuck inside the notebook was the original one I had received that fateful Valentine's Day. I skimmed over it again, feeling an unnatural thrill.

The second letter had been delivered nearly two months after the first; Emmeline had been ecstatic, thinking that the worst was over. But when it did show up, she had simply left the room and hadn't shown up again until hours later. The note had been the same color ink, same hand-writing, and it had been signed the same way. My eyes read the words again.

_Dear Lily Evans,_

_I never knew that a simple apology could turn a room full of girls into chaos; I hope your friends have calmed down from the "disarray" you said I had caused; hopefully a couple of months did the trick. Nevertheless, I find it amusing…and a little endearing. Back on subject, I'm glad you decided to send Harold back with a note. (Harold is the owl, though what else you could have thought the name could refer to is beyond me.)_

_I hope our latest prank didn't cause too much trouble for the Prefects—did you notice that everything was one-hundred percent non-vanishing free? Although, I must admit, making pranks so easy to get rid _

_of takes half the fun out of it. I regret to inform you that you are responsible for cramping our style, Miss Evans._

_Try to have a nice night with __that__ riding on your conscience._

_Pr._

_PS—Harold will wait a day. _

Surprisingly enough, figuring out if I should right him back or not hadn't been as difficult of a decision to make the second time around. Actually, it had been relatively easy. Well, _easier_. I had defended my decision by the fact that I at least had to thank him for restraining his pranking impulse (because it only had taken about fifteen minutes to clean up the prank when everything was able to be vanished with a flick of a wand). However, on the end of my letter, I had tacked on a question without meaning to—_Are you a guy?_

Yeah, Emmeline had been relentlessly lecturing me those empty months without a note from Pr.

And thus the question game began.

_Dear Lily,_

I had felt a little giddy when I had realized that he hadn't addressed me as 'Lily Evans.' After the lightheadedness had worn off, I had begun to fear for my sanity. Maybe these letters weren't so good for my health after all…by the time I had finished his note, however, I didn't think that way too much anymore.

_I laughed for a good ten minutes after reading your question. Honestly, what did you think? I was a centaur? For the record, I am, in fact, a boy, thank you very much. All masculine—though I do have a tendency to take long showers...Pretend I didn't admit that._

_Again, I hope you feel guilty for the lack of non-vanishing charms; the other Marauders aren't all too pleased with you. They are a bit hard to satisfy however, so don't feel so offended._

_And as you seemed to have started a questioning session, it only seems fair for me to have a go._

_What did you honestly think of me when you read my first letter? _

_Pr._

_PS—Harold will wait a day, as usual._

Ha. I had been slightly awed by the fact that he seemed to know that I would need time to debate answering him or not. I remembered writing back and telling him how my friends had tried to tell me that he was a female. I had hoped he would find it amusing rather than insulting—he was a prankster, after all, so he could take a joke, right? At the end of my confession, I had asked him what year he was in—I had decided to continue this little question and answer session (I mean, how else would I ever figure out if this person was safe? Well, that's what I told my subconscious).

Anyways, I was curious at how old these Marauders were.

And that was the question I was currently waiting on an answer for. That third note had arrived a month and a half after the previous one, and with exams approaching I only assumed that the pranksters had taken a studying break.

It was a pity that Pr. only wrote to me after a prank. If only--

Suddenly, I heard Emmeline's and Mary's voices approaching the door, so I quickly piled the notes back into my notebook and pushed my stash underneath my pillow. I had made all evidence disappear by the time the door opened.

"…he's not even that nice," Emmeline was saying as Mary walked in first, her arms crossed across her chest.

"How would _you_ know?" Mary retorted, her cheeks a faint color of pink.

"He dated Marcia Lovingstong, for Merlin's sake," Emmeline cried exasperatedly, her hands in the air.

Mary bounded over to me and took the book I had been pretending to read from my hands. "Lily, tell Emmeline she's being unfair," she demanded, her bottom lip sticking out into the pout that I just couldn't resist.

"Er…apparently, you're being unfair," I said to Emmeline, a hint of a smirk tempting the corners of my mouth upwards. At least my friends could always keep me entertained and stray my mind away from things I shouldn't be thinking so much about.

"Lily, she practically flaunted herself at Oliver Welling's feet," Emmeline clarified, tugging out her own pajamas from the bottom of her trunk.

"The seventh year?" I asked incredulously.

"Oh, Lily, he's so sweet and cute," Mary gushed, twirling away from my bed and approaching her own. "And I have a breakfast date with him tomorrow, and there's nothing you can do about that, Em," she declared passionately.

Emmeline frowned slightly—no doubt her untrusting tendencies were resurfacing, which only made me more grateful that I had put Pr.'s letters away—before she headed towards the bathroom with her night stuff in hand.

"So," Mary began the second the bathroom door snapped shut and we could hear the sound of water running from the tap, "when do you think Pr. will write back?"

We had taken up an unspoken agreement to only talk about the Marauders and their letters when Emmeline was safely out of earshot. I felt kind of bad, but it was for her benefit, as well as ours. She didn't want to hear about it anyways.

"I dunno, whenever there's a prank, I suppose," I shrugged, trying to keep my pulse rate at a normal speed so that my face wouldn't flush unexpectedly.

Mary sighed wistfully. "You're so lucky, Lily; having a mystery guy and all that's as sweet as him…"

I grinned despite myself. "We still aren't sure he's sweet…he could be a jerk."

"Oh, don't go all Emmeline on me now. Live in the moment; the letters are nice, and that's all that matters now," Mary said pointedly.

Yes, the letters _were _nice…

Emmeline walked back into the room at that point, her hair piled high on top of her head and her face still a little damp from her face-scrub. "It's on your shoulders," she said tensely, hopping into her bed.

I had a feeling that she had heard us whilst in the bathroom.

OOO

It was three weeks later, after a nasty story had appeared in the Daily Prophet about unsolved disappearances that it finally happened.

The Marauders' emblem appeared after a summer of absence.

The new first years were astounded to a heightened degree, for it was the first time for them. The older students, who were still just as mystified by the group of pranksters as they had been the first time they had pranked the school last year, began making theories about who could possibly be behind the jokes.

A lot of money was put on a group of Ravenclaw third year students who were exceptionally smart and who were known to be creative in classes. Others swore that, if it weren't for the fact that Potter and Black tried to rival the Marauders, they would have bet on the two Gryffindor best friends being the Marauders.

I snorted. _Right…_

So, as bets began breaking out amongst the school at the end of the first prank of the year, I raced up to my dormitory immediately after dinner. I tried to be subtle for Emmeline's sake; I mean, it wasn't like I _sprinted_ up to the Gryffindor portrait hole, or anything.

Potter nearly met me head-on as I burst through the portrait hole and into the common room. "Try to watch where you're going, Evans," he called after me.

I was too preoccupied to even bother being confused by his odd behavior towards me. Besides, he'd been treating me this way since the start of term, and it was actually starting to become normal.

Harold, the small fur-ball that claimed to be an owl, was waiting on my pillow as I threw open the door. It hooted in a greeting as I dropped my schoolbag onto the ground in a rush, my hands shaking a little in anticipation as I reached towards the bird's leg.

I had just untied the letter when Mary entered behind me, her eyes bright. "Emmeline went to the library," she said in response to my inquiring eyes.

I breathed deeply, relieved in a strong way, as Mary kneeled beside my bed and peered over my shoulder.

The unbroken seal which was the Marauder's symbol met my fingers as I slipped my fingernail under the flap and folded the note open; I winced slightly as I gave myself a paper cut in my haste, but ultimately ignored it.

_Dear Lily,_

_I hope your summer was well. Nothing significant happened during mine, which is odd considering I'm a Marauder. Aw, well. Nothing can be done when my partners have other obligations. Anyways, the prank tonight went pretty well, I thought. I hoped you enjoyed watching the Professors' dinner running away every time they tried to eat it._

_As for your question…I'm guessing you really don't care what year I'm in and that you're only curious about how many years I have on my life._

Hey, how did he _know_?

_Let's just say I'm young enough to still have fun, but old enough to have to consider my future. I hope that answers your question, although I don't think it did to its fullest extent. Sorry, but it's better if I keep some personal stuff to myself. I don't think the others would take it so nicely if they found out I was giving secrets away to a girl, especially you of all Prefects. Although, they would never let me live it down that you thought I was a girl at first…oh, the shame. _

_I hope you enjoyed your first few weeks of school, and perhaps I made it just a little more interesting. _

_Wishing you no boredom in classes tomorrow,_

_Pr._

_PS—Oh, a question, I almost forgot! Since school has begun again: Who's your favorite professor?_

_Harold will wait._

The first thing that hit me was an overwhelming thrill sensation. It was like all of my blood had run from my head to my toes in less than a second. Pr. was keeping our letters a secret from his comrades? That's what it sounded like, at least. Merlin, this bloke just got more and more interesting.

As for my question…Well, that was a bummer. What kind of answer was _that_? I still didn't know how old he was. I was guessing he must be in an upper year, if he had to think about his future and all…what a waste of a question.

"You know, you make it really hard not to be jealous of you, Lily," Mary said, grinning at me.

I shoved her shoulder. "Shut up; it's just a pen-pal thing."

She gave me a look, her left eyebrow raised in a little arch. "For now."

I groaned. Couldn't she see it wasn't like that? Guys and I just didn't mix well. There was always some sort of barrier that I insisted to keep up that he always wanted to jump over. This Marauder was just a mystery, something that I wanted and needed to uncover. I wanted to find the clues, solve the mystery, and then be done with him; why did Mary insist on building this into a relationship?

It. Wasn't. Like. That.

My skin tingled and the tiny hairs on my arms stood up pleasantly. Some part of me wasn't buying my own thoughts.

Goodness, boys really did have a way with screwing with girls' minds.

"Keep an eye out for Em," I said to Mary, deciding not to respond to Mary's romanticized comments, "I'm going to write him back."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Desperate much?"

I chucked a pair of rolled up socks at her head as I rummaged through my school bag for a piece of parchment and a quill. "Keep insulting me and I won't let you help me come up with a question to ask him," I threatened, placing the paper on my trunk and kneeling on my knees as I perched my quill over the soon-to-be letter.

She stuck her tongue out at me very childishly, but then pretended to lock her lips and throw away the key; bless her for growing up as a Muggle like I had.

_Dear Pr.,_

_Thanks for the useless answer to my question. You know, if you're going to answer so vaguely, I may just not ask you anything from now on. Despite my annoyance towards you right now, I guess I'll congratulate you on a job well done for your prank this evening. It was quite amusing watching Slughorn chase after his salmon—of course, he could have always used his wand, but I suppose that's why he's the Potions teacher._

_As for your question, my favorite professor is McGonagall. Even though she just failed me on my recent essay (alright, so really, it was an A, but I thought I deserved better), she's extremely intelligent—and being an Animagus gives her bonus points._

My quill stopped its thoughtful scratching as I glanced up at Mary. "So, any thoughts?" I asked her.

She leaned towards me on her elbows as she remained spread across my bed, which was closest to the door. "Hmm," she began, her eyes holding a far-away look. Then, suddenly, she launched herself a few inches closer until she was looking me right in the face. "Ask him his name," she said excitedly.

I laughed. "Oh, come on, he wouldn't even tell me his age," I protested.

"But he gave you clues," she insisted, "perhaps he'll do the same if you ask for his name."

It was hard to fight against her when she was so animated and eager. Her pixie-like face even seemed to be glowing as she delved into her intelligence. Actually, her idea did make sense…perhaps…

Oh, what the heck? Asking him for his favorite color wasn't going to get me anywhere.

So, I smiled coyly at Mary, dipped my quill into my pot of ink, and finished my note; I usually kept my responses brief, my hesitant Prefect side compromising with my reckless half.

_So, I think you owe me for you pathetic response to my question last time: What's your name?_

_Lily_

Maybe my empty threat at the beginning of my letter—the one warning him I wouldn't ask him questions anymore—would worry him and force him to answer. Though, my hopes weren't getting up too high. At least I could say I tried.

"So, what about James?" Mary asked after Harold had taken off out of the window and into the darkening sky. It was _just_ like her to bring up a boy the second another one had just been taken cared of…

"What about him?" I asked sharply, throwing my writing utensil and ink back into my schoolbag so that it was ready for tomorrow.

"He's still acting oddly," she commented rather unnecessarily. I mean, it wasn't like I hadn't noticed.

The blood in my head was pounding—please, not another migraine. Jeez, Mary just _had_ to bring him up, didn't she? Pr. had completely driven Potter from my over-worked brain. I mentally toasted Mary for her awful timing.

Potter was a sore subject for me these days.

O

A couple of weeks passed without any pranks or other various disturbances. Even Potter and company had been relatively behaved; besides somehow smuggling a beehive that they had found in the Forbidden Forest into the dungeons where the Slytherin Common Room was located, things were basically calm inside Potter and Black's personal detention filing cabinet.

Potter was still treating me like an actual human being whom he had no personal interest in, and for some reason, it was still driving me mad, but I dealt with it. Nothing could be worse than his constant flirting and dating propositions.

School was normal; it was school. I went to classes, did my homework, ate, slept, and started the cycle all over again. After O.W.L year, sixth year wasn't all that bad even though I had begun N.E.W.T level courses.

"I hate Mondays," Emmeline complained.

"Well, at least it's half-way over," Mary tried to consol.

"Mondays aren't all that horrible," I said as I held the door to our dormitory open for my two friends to trudge in first.

Emmeline dropped her Defense textbook onto her bed where it landed with a heavy thump. "You're only saying that because you got an O on your Potions assignment."

I smiled. "What can I say? Slughorn loves me."

Mary coughed significantly, and it was only then that I realized that she had been unusually quiet that past minute. "Apparently someone else likes you too," she said, her eyes caught on a single slip of paper that was lying on my pillow.

My heart jumped as I saw the seal.

Forgetting that Emmeline was in the room, I raced over to my bed and snatched the slip up into my hands.

There hadn't been a prank…had there? No, certainly not; it was a Monday afternoon. They usually didn't do their pranks until the evening, when everyone was conjugated for dinner. There was _no way _I could have missed anything. I was a Prefect, for Godric's sake.

What was going on here?

I felt like my head was going to explode.

I ripped open the slim piece of paper.

It contained three words; three words that knocked the air out of my lungs and sent my mind reeling like a run-away broomstick.

_Call me Prongs._

* * *

_Oh, la la. And so it begins...Thanks for reading everyone! It would be awesome, if you have the time, to click on that little bluish looking button at the bottom and leave a review! :)_

_Oh, and I've been thinking that it would be good if I got a beta; someone who could give me feedback and tell me what I should add/take out, etc. So, if you're interested, it would be marvelous if you would let me know! Although, I should probably warn you that if you became my beta and I sent you my chapters to review, I would probably want your ideas/corrections back within a week--just to keep my updates fast. I really want to finish this story before I go off to college (although, we'll see how that plan works out...) Anyways, if you're interested and you've got the time, let me know!_

_Thanks!_

_--HeyLookTheSnitch_

_Oh, and anyone out in California, I hope all of these crazy wildfires aren't threatening your homes...the sky is so smoky; it's so depressing. And it smells really bad. lol Anyways, stay safe!_


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **_Psh, if I'm going to claim to own anything, I'll say I own Edward Cullen...HOOZAH!_

**A/N:** _(Beware of a spazzing author) AHHHHHHH!! HOLY COW! HOLY POPSICLE ON A STICK! Seriously, if I haven't told you before, YOU ALL are AH-MAZING! Freain' beast! Thanks a billion, zillion, trillion to: KatrinaEagle, LilyScorpius, Zaziness, goosyjuicylucy, Princess Ducky, BookLover757, Peachy goldfish, RonRulez, Sapphire Silhouette, CURLupandDYE, CelloguyX, Mouse and Stupid Productions, Twilight Obsesser, tiger17lily, searchingforstories, Jessiquie, -Jeisa-, Vapid Philosophy, PenguinBuddy, Haven Linn, MinuetsToMidnight, VVish, tashville007, Tyem Marodyor, sarcastic hp lover, coffee dessert, Lendielstar, NeverAPrefect, serenity12345, HalfBloodDragon, Daynr, Sprut, bookworm2butterfly, beinginfinite, tic tac toe 03, zozotheterrible, Shinzoo-Kisu, Weird and Happy, LucyKevinfan, Luminous Star, ellesra, Cristipotter, Snoww, Loves to dance, Mixora, Magical Singer Gal, GreatMouseDetective, ccraffigan, Marauder Number Fiive, e.jameson, SoManyObsessions, ParadiseDreams, chattypandagurl, Bella Danvers, luvisintheair46, muddy worm, Cherrykisses21, Bellas-lullaby, starcrossedvoyager, grayx3eyedsoul, A-Lady, and sophiascribbles. Tehehehehehe! I feel like putting on the Jonas Brothers and dancing around my room singing into my hairbrush! :D_

_So, I'm a bad, bad, terrible author. A month?! A MONTH! What was I thinking? If you want an explanation of why it has taken so long, have a look at my profile, because I won't waste people's time by putting it here. lol All I can say is I'm incredibly sorry, you guys are wonderful, and I'll do better than this! As for this chapter, IT TAKES PLACE IN SIXTH YEAR! Yeah, I know I said it would take place in seventh, but quite frankly, when I tried writing it, I realized 7th year just didn't work for this chapter and I wasn't done with sixth. And, ugh, this chapter seems like such a filler, but for some reason, in my crazy odd mind, it seemed necessary. I'm not quite sure why yet, but gosh darn it, it is! Wow, trying to run on four hours of sleep just isn't working for me..._

_Anyways, I hope you like this excuse for a chapter anyways, even if it is incredibly short (or shorter than my other ones). And sorry if I disappointed anyone who was looking forward to 7th year, Head Girl/Head Boy, a nicer James, or letters from Prongs, because you won't find any of that here. lol Wow, that sounded kind of harsh...I really need to go get some sleep. _

_Oh, and thanks to EVERYONE who offered to be my beta! I was flattered that you would want to! So, welcome aboard chattypandagurl (that is, if you still want to do it...I haven't talked to you in like weeks!) the author of the amazing story Destiny Reversed! And, being the nice person that I am, I decided to give you a freebie, because you didn't have to edit this chapter although it's probably the one that needs it the most. I just wanted to get this chapter out here because it's been so long. I can always re-post it if you find that it's incredibly dreary and dull...lol_

_Anyways...Happy reading!_

* * *

**Chapter 4: Eliminating Blokes**

_I'm hot, you're cold  
You go around  
Like you know  
Who I am  
But you don't  
You've got me on my toes._  
--Burnin' Up, Jonas Brothers

* * *

I was almost one hundred percent sure I was having a dream. At the least, a hallucination. Or maybe a day-dream. Perhaps the school bell was about to shrill, pulling me out of whatever planet I was currently residing on. It was like I was floating—though I was firmly sitting on my bed—and my head felt light and airy. Like someone had taken out my brain for an overdue cleaning and repair. I felt oddly ditzy, like I wanted to giggle for no apparent reason; kind of like a certain blonde that I have to try to restrain on a regular basis.

Oh, Godric. I was turning into Mary!

Wait. This wasn't real. I was still Lily Evans. It was only a dream…

"Who names their kid Prongs?" Emmeline snorted with sick-minded enjoyment.

…Or not.

Too bad. I was kind of excited to see where my dream would take me. Perhaps Prongs would have even shown up. No, bad thoughts, Lily, bad. I did _not _want to fall for this boy—a boy I did _not _know. Me plus a boy multiplied by a relationship equals a disaster. See? Who says Arthimancy isn't useful?

Okay, now I really was fading away. Emmeline was still chuckling maddeningly. My only guess was that she was delighted that my so-called 'mystery man' (as Mary had decided to conveniently dub him…which annoyed me greatly) had such an unusual, idiotic name.

A strong desire to defend him pulled me from my punch-drunk state. Prongs' slip of paper was still clutched in my warrior-like grip. "I think it's a nickname, you dolt," I reprimanded her. Besides, who was she to talk? Her parents had given her the middle name of Heartstrong…if that wasn't abnormal then I didn't know what was.

"He used to sign his letters Pr., right?" Mary asked, being atypically thoughtful. Actually, it wasn't all that abnormal; she could actually think very deeply when it came to guys, relationships, and mysteries. Ironic, seeing the situation I was currently in.

Emmeline couldn't help but snort. "Yeah, couldn't have stood for Prongs, could it?"

"Hello? One word for you," Mary clarified, "Clues. Maybe his initials are P.R. and Prongs is just another clue—Hey! What if it's Patrick Riley?"

I dry-heaved, which made me gag and made me feel sick. It was like a chain reaction. "The fifth year with the constantly running nose?" It was like that kid had a year-around allergy attack, I swear. Madame Raleigh and her apprentice Madame Pomfrey had yet to find a cure for him.

"I'd be okay with that," Emmeline said, nodding, her eyes flickering from the rolled up paper in my hands to her bedspread. Well, that was one step in the right direction—at least Em was admitting to the possibility of Prongs being a male citizen of Hogwarts.

Mary sighed dramatically. "Of course _you_ would; he's about as dangerous as a blade of grass."

"He could sneeze on me though, don't forget," I wasn't able to keep from blurting out. One glance at Mary and the two of us were off laughing; Emmeline wasn't too amused as she not-so-patiently waited for us to stop. We ended up dodging a sneaker she threw at our heads.

However, after Mary and I had gotten Patrick, his bacteria, and virus issues successfully out of our systems, there was no denying that Prongs _was_ an odd name, even for a nickname. Mary continued to suggest (in an exaggerated squeal, of course) that the name was a clue—like the answer he'd given for my age question ("And you better get a move on to figure it out, or else."). Though I had no idea what her 'or else' threat could possibly be.

So, as I sat outside on the edge of the Black Lake the weekend after finding out this Marauder's 'name', I tried to come up with possibilities of what clues he could be hiding. I even tried listing all the boys I could think of in the school with the initials P and R, but after I went through the four blokes I knew of and realized they all had some sort of issue that bothered me to no end (like eating with their mouth open, or folding the corners of the pages in books), I gave up on that. So, I turned to what other associations I could come up with for the word.

Prongs.

Well, the word, in general, reminded me of a fork; something used to spear something else, like a fire poker piercing through a marshmallow. Hm, yeah, okay—forks were sharp. Maybe Prongs was trying to tell me that he was intelligent; you know? Like he had a sharp mind…Or maybe he meant sharp as in suave, intellectual, upper-class; kind of like when a man walking down the street with a tux, a top hat, and a cane is told, "Wow, you look _sharp_ tonight."

My mind started fabricating a ridiculously handsome looking twenty-something year old in an expensive black silk suit with _Hogwarts: A History_ stuck under his arm and shiny glasses perched on his nose. Dark, mysterious, wealthy--

Okay, I was seriously over thinking things—a Marauder couldn't be in his twenties; he went to school, for Merlin's sake!

…Wow, I did _not_ just say that.

I banged my head with my hand, frustrated how quickly and how easily this bloke was pulling me in with his mystery. Every letter he wrote to me seemed like he was deliberately keeping things from me just to keep me interested. It was incredibly annoying.

And for some reason I liked it.

Part of me knew Emmeline was probably correct in her suspicion that this boy was no good for me, but I knew I would never be able to listen to her now. I was already stuck; I couldn't stop. It was like a heroin addiction…or a Firewhiskey binge for an underage Wizard.

Prongs was my source of alcohol.

Wow, how pathetically frightening.

"What are you doing?"

I flinched horribly at the surprise, my foot nearly plopping right over the bank and into the edge of the lake. My heart was pumping wildly as I turned my head to look at the person who had just so rudely interrupted my thoughts about forks and alcoholic beverages.

As soon as I saw the face surrounded by shoulder-length dark hair, I scrambled from the grass to my feet, my arms crossed across my chest. I was scowling as I observed the boy who was leaning against the tree closest to me, his back rigid against the bark. Alright, if Prongs was the Firewhiskey in my goblet then Snape was my depressant—he had begun to dishearten me.

"What are _you_ doing?" I retorted with a snap. There was a good meter between us, and I was in no hurry to change that.

Severus pushed himself away from the tree trunk in a quick, harsh moment that would surely have sent me sprawling. He'd always been mysteriously graceful but darkly so; not the same kind of royal grace that Sirius Black carried himself with.

"I'm going to say something to you," he basically demanded. Any _normal _person would have simply asked if they could speak to me. He must have known I would have told him no. Too bad I was going to anyways, question or not.

My eyes narrowed. "It won't change anything, Severus," I told him honestly, turning sideways so I could walk away but still keep my eye on him. It was funny how that one day at the end of fifth year could change so much; the same day I seemed to have lost Potter, I lost my best friend as well.

Well, Potter really wasn't much to lose—gah! Just the sound of his name made the sweat pores open up. That's when you know that someone has conveniently screwed and tortured your delicate mind. I kept moving backwards, trying to concentrate on Sev instead of ignorant Potter.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Snape reach a ghostly hand towards my arm, as if he were going to grab me, but then decided against it—wow, one of the smartest moves he'd ever made. My heart jumped uncomfortably nonetheless.

"Going to go write to your admirer?"

I halted immediately. He had effectively stopped me without laying a hand anywhere near my body. I looked at him silently, taking him in. He was sneering in a disgusted manner. It was almost as if he thought he knew something that I didn't. How irritating. Had he always been this annoying and I had just turned a blind eye, or was this some sort of recent development that Mulciber had taught to him?

"I have _no_ idea what you're talking about," I said as honestly as I could, knowing perfectly well that he probably, unfortunately, knew me too well to know when I was trying to deceive him.

"The one from last year," he continued, despite my lies.

How in the name of Merlin's fourth cousin thrice removed—how could he possibly remember? That was one thing I had grown to dislike about Severus from our early years—he remembered everything! It could come in handy, but other times it was a pain in the butt. Like now, for example. That day, in the library, all he had seen was a letter—why he still believed it was an admirer was beyond me. And how he knew I was writing to him was an even bigger problem. I tried to keep my face calm.

"You're delusional."

I began to walk away again, my heart threatening to jump right out of my chest and through my heavy cloak. What a sight that would have been.

"Don't talk to _Potter_."

He all but spat the word, like it was a disgusting flavored jelly bean he'd just chewed on. His black eyes were hard. My temper flared; who gave him the right to tell me what I could and couldn't do? He had made the decision not to be my friend—Dark Arts over me; I had been highly insulted.

"I can do whatever I please, Severus." I deliberately didn't point out the obvious fact that he needn't worry, because it wasn't like Potter was jumping milestones to talk to me anyways.

"He'll hurt you."

What was his irritating obsession with my 'admirer' and Potter? I glared at him. "Like you haven't?" I questioned him thickly. He seemed to inwardly flinch, the frozen ice in his eyes slowly melting.

"You know I—that wasn't—"

He was spluttering and I took a brief pleasure in that fact. "Have a nice day, Severus," I said swiftly. And this time I did walk away, and I didn't stop even as I heard him curse Potter under his breath.

OO

"Pst."

I clenched my quill tightly, trying to calm myself down.

"Pssst! James!"

I began chanting to myself. _Shut up, Black. Shut up, Black. _Didn't he know that some people actually _tried _to listen to teachers' lectures? Ha, of course not. He was Sirius Black. He didn't care about _anything_—except perhaps mouthing off the Slytherins every chance he got.

"So help me, if you don't answer me Potter, I will—"

I turned to the handsome boy beside me fixing him with a glare that not even he could ignore. His incessant whisperings halted, trailing off until he was simply blowing air in and out of his mouth. It was proof of my bad luck that Professor Flitwick liked to sit his students according to alphabetical order. Further proof of my lack of good old Irish luck was that, for some unearthly reason, Black and Evans were placed right beside each other on the roll call.

I really needed to get myself some Felix Felicis.

Sirius sat back in his chair with a defeated huff, his arms crossed, as he stared at me. He held a small hand-held mirror in his hand at arm's length. "What?" he shot back quiet enough not to get caught while Flitwick droned on about Cheering Charms, but loud enough so that people knew he didn't give a damn, "I just wanted to talk to—_James_!"

I jumped as he practically screeched the name in the highest of whispers he could conjure. I even think the girl behind me knocked over her bottle of ink, because I heard her friend who was beside her muttering about ways she was going to get the stains out of her robes. Jeez, it was a miracle Flitwick hadn't noticed. Or maybe he'd just learned by now to tune out anything to do with Black, Potter and their untimely interruptions.

Well, that's what I tried to do anyways.

And to top it all off, Black was now observing himself whilst mumbling unintelligible nonsense underneath his breath. For the love of everything magical, what else could this bloke possibly find to do in class besides the obvious—aka: learning?

"No matter how long you look at yourself, Black, your face won't fix itself."

He glanced at me quickly. "James says to butt the hell out."

I was pretty sure my mouth actually dropped open. Potter had never—what made him think—he had said 'hell' to me! That sounded like something Black would tell me, not Potter. He'd never said that vulgar word when referring to me before. Something right below my stomach seemed to flip and then plunge—hey, if whatever organ that was down there was trying to run and tackle Potter, well, I couldn't blame it. Stupid, rude, pig-headed James Potter—

Wait.

I glanced behind me, ignoring Sirius who was still talking to his own reflection. Potter remained sitting two rows behind me and four desks to the left beside his Hufflepuff seating partner (last name of Pratt). How had Sirius gotten a message all the way from Potter from half-way across the room?

"Miss Evans, could you please go around and collect the homework from last night?"

I jumped at the sound of my Professor's voice as he handed me a cardboard box to collect my classmates' essays in. Flitwick used to collect essays with a summoning charm, but after the twenty-page paper incident (the bloody volume had knocked little Flitwick backwards—and, no, it had _not _been my paper, thank you)…well, I suppose he didn't want to be in the Hospital Wing with a broken nose again.

It wasn't until after I had handed the homework to my teacher and the bell had rang that I realized that the idiotic antics of Sirius Black had caused me to miss half of today's notes—it was a miracle I was even passing that class with that boy beside me, actually. However, I quickly disregarded that, and my friends, as I dumped my stuff precariously into my bag and raced out after Black and Potter with Remus and Pettigrew in tow. If they thought I would forget their oddities during class, well, they had another thing coming.

"What," I began, coming up from behind them, "was that about?"

Potter glanced at me briefly, his hazel eyes snapping over my body and then back to the corridor again. "What was what, Evans?"

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about."

"I dunno; what say you, Sirius, do I?" he asked, smirking so hugely now that I wouldn't even have to _try_ to aim to hex that _thing_ off his face. I could probably do it with my eyes closed.

Sirius shrugged casually, a grin so impish that it actually made my blood quiver angrily, throbbing against my collarbone and making heat flash up my neck and onto my face. "All I know is that it has _got_ to be bigger."

Potter laughed. "Way bigger."

"What's bigger?" Peter Pettigrew asked, busy gnawing on his quill that he hadn't put into his bag yet with his two, overlarge front teeth.

I had to admit, I was with Pettigrew on this one. What in the name of Godric Gryffindor's sword were they talking about now?

"Evans' head," Potter replied easily.

That's when my mouth dropped open again and my hands clamped into sweaty, tight fists. I doubt that was what Black was talking about—actually, that very well could have been what the imbecile was talking about. Again, I was used to Black mocking me, but Potter?

"_Excuse me_?"

Honestly, I knew Potter had some new rule regarding how he treated me this year, but this was crossing the line. Besides, who was he to tell me I had an overlarge ego? He was the bloody boy who carried a Snitch around in his pocket—a _stolen_ Snitch from Merlin knows where—and he was a freaking _Chaser_. I knew enough about Quidditch to know that Chasers typically didn't throw around little winged balls.

"You and your Prefect duties," Potter was saying, waving his hand around in the air like he was trying to swat an offending fly, "You always have to get up in everyone's business," he sighed dramatically and it was taking all of my will power to stop my right hand from slapping the dork across the face.

"Prefects…can't live with them, could definitely live without them."

"I resent that," Remus stated, trying to hide his amused smile as he glanced at me. Yeah, his attempt at looking apologetic wasn't working out so well for him. On the plus side, at least he had enough resilience to not laugh in my face like his other friends.

Stupid Potter was chuckling to himself; I glared. "Anyways," he grabbed Sirius's shoulder and tagged him along, "let's go, mates." The others followed like loyal puppies. It was like he was the leader of their little gang. Mary and Em were just approaching me when Potter turned around and looked right at me with those hideous hazel eyes of his.

"See you, Evans—why don't you go write a letter or something."

And, for the third time that afternoon, my jaw dropped all the way to the cold ground of the castle, scraping against the stone painfully until I picked it back up again. Had he just—did he—huh?

No. Impossible. I told myself to calm down. Besides, Potter's brain was too small to possibly figure out my pen-pal relationship with Prongs. I mean, I had a suspicion that Remus probably even helped the bloke tie his shoelaces. Potter put a whole new meaning to the term 'dim-witted'. He was rude, inconsiderate, selfish, slow…even the most creative adjectives didn't do him justice.

Well, if the word Prongs was a clue that was used to reveal to me that Prongs was an intelligent guy, I could now eliminate one person from the long list of potentials—if Potter was Prongs I would pluck, cut, boil, and serve myself to the Giant Squid for afternoon tea.

* * *

_Gahhhh. I really don't see the point in this chapter, but, like I said, my intuition is telling me it was needed...haha. So, blame my sixth sense! _

_On the bright side...TEN DAYS UNTIL BREAKING DAWN!! Woot woot! I've realized that if I read one of the Twilight books when I don't know what to write for this story, it inspires me. I think some of you twilight fans might be able to pick out some of those inspirations in this chapter...so, if it ever happens again where it has been two weeks since my last update, message me and tell me to read some twilight! lol _

_I hope you all enjoyed it, even if it did seem like useless filler. Some parts of it I thought were funny...yes, I laugh at my own jokes. _

_I hope your summer is continuing to be fun, relaxing, and hot!_

_The next chapter you should expect: summer letters, Head Girl badges, an improved James Potter, and...well, I dunno what else at the moment, but it should be some good stuff! _

_--HeyLookTheSnitch_


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Nope. (shakes head back and forth)

**A/N:** I_ really do not deserve such wonderful readers! Thanks a million to: Adosia, Kiley 1 09, iheartjamesandlily, .the.brown.eyed.girl., The Silverdark Knight, Jessiquie, Kikuchi, Bellas-lullaby, starcrossedvoyager, CURLupandDYE, chattypandagurl, Peachy goldfish, Tyem Marodyor, -Jeisa-, Loves to dance, muddy worm, NeverAPrefect, ParadiseDreams, moosie-blackdog, grayx3eyedsoul, A-Lady, LyLMystikeLf, zozotheterrible, Cherrykisses21, ellesra, goosyjuicylucy, KatrinaEagle, e.jameson, Sapphire Silhouette, coffee dessert, and searchingforstories. Once again, you guys rocked my world. :)_

_So, first and foremost, I would like to say sorry...again...for the long wait. I'm gonna try to get the next chapter up way faster, considering I leave for college next week! Secondly, I want everyone to give a shoutout to chattypandagurl, who did an amazingly awesome job beta-ing this chapter. Thanks a bunch! _

_Thirdly, enjoy this LONG chapter!_

* * *

**Chapter 5—Obsessive Compulsive Multiple Personalities**

I had officially become obsessed; hook, line, and sinker. Down a spiraling black hole that I was unable to drag my mind back out from.

What was wrong with me?

I hesitated in the middle of the cobbled street, rocking on the balls of my feet. I could just make out the small building of Flourish & Blotts a few meters away from where I currently stood. Was this healthy? Was I becoming a stalker? Maybe nearing eighteen years old had addled my common sense, because going all the way to Diagon Alley to get a book on animal footprints is clearly insane and unusual behavior for me

Godric, how could I not have noticed the Marauder's emblem before now? Well, I mean, I had always acknowledged its existence, but it had become more of a symbol that Prongs had sent me a letter than anything else. But those four paw prints couldn't be a coincidence. Prongs and his fellow pranksters couldn't have just thought, "Hey, let's make our symbol animal footprints, because that's just plain cool." No, Prongs was more sophisticated and mysterious than that. As for his mates, well, I couldn't really say much about them (except that they didn't know Prongs was writing to me), but they had to be somewhat intellectual to come up with and execute those pranks.

And if I was going to be a stalker, by golly, I was going to do it right! I've never settled for anything less than perfection (or 'Prefection,' as Mary and Em had renamed it). Besides, if Prongs didn't want me to try to figure this out, why had he filled his recent letter with so many animal-like words and analogies? Okay, so it had probably just been a fluke, but seriously—was I stupid to not have figured this out before? Had he been wondering why I hadn't questioned him about their emblem before now, and he had recently decided to drop large hints because he felt so pathetically sorry for my naivety? I was certain these footprints would tell me something…

'Dear Lily,' he had written.

_Hope your summer is going well. No classes, no professors, no homework…well, the first two are true anyways. Seriously, summer should be a time to relax, ride on brooms, floo around in fireplaces, and prank your parents. Honestly, doesn't the establishment know anything? It's like we're dogs taken out for a walk, but we're still attached to leashes held onto by McGonagall._

_Anyways, this may be the last letter you receive until school starts and the Marauders strike again. And, yes, I know I normally don't write unless we've just pranked, but, you should know that I'm currently under house arrest because me and the-brother-I-always-thought-I-wanted-until-he-moved-in turned my mum's living room purple in her—ahem—absence. So, technically, there was a prank. Not to mention, trimming our cat's fur so it now resembles a rat and feeding our owl a tablespoon of sugar to see what would happen. Oh, summer—got to love it._

_And, as for a response to your last question—jeez, still trying to figure out my age? A little impatient, are we? You remind me of a Niffler around shiny stuff; you're not easily deterred. Well, I guess my answer won't do any harm: Yes, I have taken my O.W.L.'s. _

_Your recently convicted convict,_

_Prongs_

_PS—What's your favorite animal? _

What a totally animalistic letter. Not to mention the fact that the emblem this time had been the size of Antarctica. Alright, so it really had been the same size as usual, but this time—in the boredom of summer—I had actually taken the time to observe it. Now it was like a bloody gigantic clue that had been sitting under my nose for the past year and a half.

Was I seriously that unobservant?

I squealed as the door to the bookstore swung open and smacked me in the face. "Dang it, ow." I really should have been paying attention instead of standing in front of a swinging door that people would open sooner or later.

"Oh, Evans."

You have _got_ to be kidding me. What had I ever done to offend Merlin? The old Warlock has it in for me, I swear.

"Potter."

I nodded and chanced a glance at him as the door he'd just opened, and hit me with, fell back into its frame. Goodness, did this boy ever stop growing? I swear, he must have gained three inches over the summer, because it felt like he now towered over my five foot four body. A large bag filled with books occupied his left hand while his right held onto my forearm, steadying me from my recent encounter with the door.

I wrenched my wrist backwards and his hand fell limp by his side as I brushed my top off, simply for something to do. The air between us was slightly awkward.

"You have _got _to learn to watch where you're going, Evans—what is that? Like the fourth time I've saved your unlucky arse?" His tone of voice was different than it had been last year. It was light, not quite mocking, but rather like he was making a joke. Kind of like how he acted in fifth year, but somehow more mature. He carried himself differently too—confident, but not cocky; back straight, head high, an easy smile and no smirk…

What was going on?

I cocked my head to the side, observing him, until I realized that I must look like a goon, staring at him like that. For some reason, I had to clear my throat before my voice would work. "Well, it seems to always be you who nearly kills me, so we're even." I rubbed my nose subtly—I was going to have a bruise tomorrow morning, no doubt about that.

He shrugged his broad shoulders casually—the same shoulders that used to be so small and scrawny the first time I'd ever met him—and grinned childishly. Then, he looked around before settling his gaze back onto me. "Don't you need parental surveillance or something?" he inquired, the wind ruffling his hair a bit as it blew down the street.

Honestly—the _nerve_—Potter irked me.

"I'm seventeen; can't I come shopping on my own?" I snapped at him.

Actually, my parents were really busy shopping for a wedding dress for Petunia, though the wedding wasn't for another year. Not to mention she'd chosen her best friend as bridesmaid instead of her very own sister—heck, I wasn't even in the wedding procession. But I didn't want to tell _Potter_ any of that, because even someone as uncompassionate as Potter would be able to hear the depression in my voice. And with his new attitude, who knew what Potter was capable of? Merlin, it was like this boy went through a personality change every year.

Potter simply shrugged, switching the weight of his shopping bag from one hand to the other. "Don't you have friends? Mary? Emmeline?"

Merlin, why did he _care_? Last year he would have slammed the door in my face and laughed as he made me stumble foolishly with a tripping jinx just for an added effect. My rage was beginning to build stronger, my confusion urging it on. I tried concentrating on my breathing. In, out, in, out.

"I'm meeting them at two, so, if you don't mind, I have business to take care of." I brushed by him and placed my hand on the glass paneled door to push it open.

Before I could prevent it—perhaps by slamming the door in his face and then making a run for it—he'd followed in after me. What in the world? He'd just come out of this store! What more could he possibly need? He was done with books! Done, I tell you!

Plus, last year, he'd made it perfectly clear he wanted nothing more to do with me. Hadn't he ever heard of a little thing called _consistency_?

"I could help you look for your school books, if you'd like—" I kept my face resolutely pointing forward, though my anti-perspirent wasn't being so anti anymore—"They're unusually hard to find this year, little buggers," he said casually, a hint of a smirk flickering across his features as his hand swept through his hair. At least it was comforting to know that the same old James Potter was still hidden somewhere beneath this too polite and extremely frustrating charade.

"I'm not here for school books, so, no thanks," I told him. I usually do the big back to school shopping with my mum. This was strictly a buy one book, don't pass go, and do not talk to arrogant pricks type of trip. Then it was off to get an ice cream with my friends.

Clearly, James Potter did not fit into that equation.

"What're you looking for then?"

"Why so interested?" I retorted, annoyed with his presence. It was bothering me, making me feel uncomfortable, like someone was going to jump out from behind a bookshelf and scare the heck out of me.

He looked at me, and then shrugged, grinning again. "Sirius is off at some store that sells Muggle things—he's looking for a motorcycle, you know? Like those things we learned about last year in Muggle Studies—"

"Potter, I'm a _Muggle_," I reminded him tersely. Besides, I hadn't even _taken _Muggle Studies. What a waste of time that would have been.

"Oh, right." He smiled sheepishly (What the heck? Potter—sheepish? What was wrong with the world?) before carrying on. "Anyways, I got bored, so I ditched him, and now, here I am." He held his arms out wide, his bag dangling from his wrist, like it was an honor to have him with me.

My eye twitched. "Yes, here you are," I mumbled, turning my back on him as I pretended to observe a shelf…maybe he'd ditch me if I bored him. One could only hope.

Hearing his inhalation of oxygen from behind me was really irritating. I think I could actually feel his warm breath on the back of my neck, but that could have just been my paranoid imagination, because he was dangerously close. Nevertheless, my whole body seemed to be on alert, tense, and ready for…_something_. I was so uncomfortable with him here, acting like this—with my stomach in tightly wound knots—that it was hard to even remember why I was here in the first place.

"So," he began, "what're you looking for exactly?"

Hadn't he ever heard of someone's personal space?

I exhaled deeply. "A book."

It was like I could see his eyes rolling without even looking at him. "No, really?" he asked sarcastically, "Look, believe or not, I actually know this store quite well—"

"—no doubt, you've bought all the books having to do with perverse jokes and stupid pranks—"

He expertly ignored me, like he hadn't even heard me in the first place. "—and, seeing as you've got to meet your friends in ten minutes, I could get you in and out of here faster than you could say 'Bugger off, Potter.'" He smirked again.

Well, at least he knew I wanted him gone. Too bad he wasn't going to adhere to my wishes until I let him help me find this darn book.

So, with tight lips and a clenched jaw I spun around to face him with my arms crossed. "You really are annoying." He simply grinned in that odd, persistent way of his. I threw my hands up, exasperated. "Give me one good reason why I should take your help and not someone's who works here?"

His eyes flickered to the back of the store where, I just noticed, there seemed to be a lot of activity going on. There were bangs and shouts of spells, like people were dueling back there. "They are all conveniently busy cleaning up a display of invisible books I _accidently _knocked over—it seems I'm your only option."

I groaned, my gut clenching and unclenching uncomfortably as if it was trying to tell me something. More likely something along the lines of 'this is a potentially dangerous situation.' If he could knock over one display big enough to grab all the employees attention, who knew what else he was capable of.

I hated when I was in a lose-lose situation.

"I need a book on animal footprints."

It might have been my imagination, but when he turned to look at me, something flashed across his eyes. His face remained composed, calm, and cool however, giving nothing away. Hm, maybe the overhead lights of the store were messing with my eyesight.

"Why?" he asked in a controlled voice.

I narrowed my eyes as I looked at him more closely—I had a feeling he was mocking me. The two corners of his mouth were vibrating, as if his lips wanted to smile hugely. His hazel eyes almost seemed alive, the way they were twinkling. Prick Potter…

"Because I like animals, thickhead, so lead the way."

Something sounded deep in his chest, like a chuckle; my mind began to freak out because, I mean, I was close enough to Potter to hear his chest speak! Not right. Not normal. I quickly backtracked—and ran smack dab into a bookcase.

Potter laughed at that and, before I could react, he had grabbed my wrist and with his other hand had caught the thick book that had been about to fall onto my head—boastful, good for nothing Quidditch skills. Then he dragged me to the west wing of the store. I shook my hand free the second my head stopped spinning.

"You're lucky I know the animal section so well," he joked as he stopped beside a wall piled high with books.

"Why would that be?" I questioned him in a dull voice. After all, it was only polite to make conversation.

"I live with Sirius, isn't that reason enough?"

I rolled my eyes and turned to begin searching the hundreds and hundreds of book spines, hoping that Potter would take the hint and leave, when actually I was thinking about _him, _trying to figure out why he was acting like this. Thus, I hadn't even read one title when he thrust a heavy book that smelled like forests into my hands. No, really, how did he know his way around a _bookstore _so well? For goodness sakes, I had hardly ever seen him in the _library _at school.

"This is what I would recommend if you want to investigate prints—it shows you pictures of all animal paws—even including magical ones."

It was like the idiot worked here or something. This information, combined with this personality change, was giving me a headache. And how did he know I wanted to match up paw prints? It was like fifth year all over again—how I'd always had that feeling he could read my mind, like he had a radar on me, a tracking device, or something.

Oh, my Merlin. Maybe he did have tabs on me.

I flipped through the book quickly, to give myself time to calm down from the idea of Potter installing a tracking grid on me, before I had to face Potter again. Also, I was hoping the book _wasn't _what I wanted, just so I wouldn't have to admit he was right.

Bugger; he was right. This is exactly what I needed. I hated it when Potter was smart. Wanting to make some type of movement because Potter was slowly crawling underneath my skin, I raced over to the register.

"Aren't you going to tell me why you want a book like this? I thought you gave up Care of Magical Creatures."

Had he actually jogged along behind me? Loser. Hopeless pushy loser.

"Aren't you going to go find me an assistant who can take my money?"

He looked highly affronted. "Me? Why me?"

"Because you destroyed the display."

As he grumbled incessantly and walked away towards the back of the store, I released a breath of air I hadn't known I'd been holding. My head cleared, and I was able to think logically. This was all false. Too much summer sun had probably fried Potter's brain, and once we got back to school he would remember he was supposed to be ignoring or torturing me and cut this act. Or, at least I hoped, because he was making me feel highly nervous and anxious; like I was standing on the edge of a cliff or something.

To make it worse, he was still acting like an overly-confident git, but it was more tolerable than last year. _Way _more tolerable. And it was making my body feel funny.

Too soon, Potter had returned and I had paid the cashier, who had taken a great interest into why I had bought this book; the bloke had even asked me if I was considering taking up Muggle hiking and the hundreds of books he had to sell on the matter. I scowled—surely Potter had bribed this guy. Knowing I would be free of Potter the second I was outside—or, at least it would be easier to ditch him—I all but ran to the door and swung it open.

Someone on the other side caught it in mid-swing.

"Finally let you out of Azkaban, eh, Evans?"

Oh, for the love of Gryffindor. "Only because I offered to bring you in, Black," I retorted.

Did I have a target stamped across my forehead today? First Potter, now Black…all we needed now was Severus, and we could call this a party.

His impossibly dark eyes landed on the book tucked underneath my arm and then at Potter who was laughing quietly behind me. "Bought a book on animals to try to learn how to tame your hair—trust me, Evans, you need much more than animal products."

I glared, resisting the urge to touch my hair to see what the humidity had done to it—it had been smooth when I left my house. Bloody Black. I could feel my wand inside the front pocket of my jeans—no, I was Head Girl now; I was better than that.

"Go die," I told him simply before I turned my back on the two of them abruptly. I could restrain from hurting Potter for a while, but the two of them together—I didn't fully trust myself.

"Is that really something you should be wishing upon the best mate of the Head Boy?"

It was like I had run straight into a brick wall. I felt winded as I whipped around. "S-sorry?"

Oh, please, please, _please, _no. Merlin, I promise never to take your name in vain again, and if you're friends with God, tell him I'm sorry for sleeping that one morning at church—amen.

Potter was watching me closely, a little sneaky smile on his lips. He held up his hands, as if he were about to be arrested, and said, "Guilty as charged."

They must have seen the panic wash across my face—I mean, it was almost as if I could feel the blood draining from my cheeks—because both of their foolish grins grew wilder. "I suppose, by the looks of your face, you're Head Girl, then?" Sirius asked coyly. "I didn't realize Dumbledore was allowed to give the badge to a nut job."

"What's _his _excuse then?" I snapped back. I could feel my composure slipping, like water that I was trying to cup in my hands.

Potter shrugged. "My dad bribed the school."

The two friends laughed, but it sounded like nails on a chalkboard in my mind: chill-inducing and nauseating. I knew I was about to lose my mind, and that would _not _be good—I tended to rant and babble when I got too upset…heck, sometimes I even _cried_. I'd rather eat Hippogriff dung than let Black and Potter witness me breaking down.

"This is a joke," I accused them weakly. "I mean—"

How had I landed on this strange planet? A place where ignorant fools know their way around bookstores and the brightest Wizard of the age appoints power-hungry idiots as Head Boy?

"Wow—we've done the impossible, mate," Black stated with a tone of over-exaggerated awe, "we've rendered _the _Lily Evans speechless."

They had _not _rendered me speechless. My mind was simply too preoccupied trying to wrap its way around this phenomenon.

"Well, I suppose it will be easier to work with her if she can't talk," Potter admitted.

"I don't need my speech to make your life miserable," I told him, wanting to sound threatening; I couldn't let them know I was slowly turning to mush. My rage was slowly building up behind my eyes, making my eyelids twitch—and, oh, Godric, I was about to cry.

"Lily, there you are! We've been waiting for ages—_oh_."

I felt like I could have thrown my arms around Mary's neck and squeezed her to death, I was so happy. Emmeline was at her side; she waved politely at Potter and Black while Mary simply looked, with her mouth open, from me to the two boys. My only guess was she was surprised that Potter actually seemed to be talking to me…politely. To an outsider, I knew that's exactly what it would have looked like…because, really, that's what was happening.

Sort of.

Creepy.

"Hello, ladies," Black said suavely, flicking his fringe across his forehead.

They both ignored his attempts. I looked around at this odd group, and—why was Potter staring at Emmeline like that? Intense, meaningful…_passionate? _What the hell? "Captain, again, James?" Emmeline asked, after a quick nod—so insignificant, it might have not been real—as she glanced at me.

"Who else?" Potter responded, throwing out his chest.

And all thoughts of Emmeline and Potter were thrown out my head like I'd just run into a slab of concrete…again.

What the—Quidditch captain _and _Head Boy? He had been given _two _positions of power? Did no one else know that Potter had a personality disorder and could most likely end up as a dictator? Did the word 'Hitler' mean nothing to the Wizarding world?

"Let's go," I said in an undertone to my friends, grabbing them both by their arms with my book tucked securely underneath my armpit.

They must have sensed the tension in my voice, because they glanced at me quickly before Mary said, "We have places to be."

Black grinned eerily. "See you in the Prefects cabin on the train, Evans."

I glared. "You will _not _be there."

"Perhaps not—but I usually wind up in there anyways for fighting on the train."

I shot a warning glance at Potter. "Keep an eye on your friend."

"Sure, sure."

Well, my time here was up. Heck, who was I kidding? I should have left ten minutes ago. I turned, taking my friends with me, and headed towards Florean Fortescue's. "Bye," Emmeline waved.

I felt like I could actually breathe properly once I could no longer hear Potter's and Black's ridiculous guffaws of laughter. "Out of all the boys at school, and you actually _like _them?" I questioned Emmeline darkly, marching fast through the streets as my bad mood—brought on from my head-ache inducing confusion—tried to dwindle.

"Quidditch causes people to bond."

It seemed so stupid and hypocritical that she had a problem with Prongs—who posed no threat—but accepted Potter and Black with open arms even though they caused things to explode on a regular basis. Emmeline had some major problems—problems that ran deeper than strange trust issues. Yeah, I was still trying to calm down from my recent panic attack.

"So, James is Head Boy?" Mary asked curiously.

Did she honestly not see my face? I was about to combust.

"Please," I said simply, "just…_please_."

I could tell that Mary and Emmeline were grinning at each other over my head—drat my short stature.

After we had ordered our ice creams—chocolate with every flavored beans because I like a little spontaneity in my life (unless it's Potter)—we sat outside in our favorite little colorful plastic chairs. A red and white stripped umbrella shot up from the middle of our table, shielding us from the sun.

"So, did you get it?" Mary asked after taking a lick of her desert. She leaned across the table expectantly, licking her lips clean. Her blonde hair was curlier than usual today.

I couldn't help but grin—Prongs usually put me in a good mood. Not to mention, the further Potter was from me, the less my mind throbbed. "I said I would, didn't I?" I questioned with a smile, pulling the book from my lap and placing it on the table.

"And you remembered the emblem?" Emmeline questioned.

Excitement flooded through me, not only because we were about to uncover another clue (well, so we hoped), but because Emmeline had actually—willingly—decided to help. Oh, Emmeline, growing up one step at a time. Even if she was just doing it to make sure I didn't do anything stupid, I was still grateful. Anything was better than her silent treatment and disappointment.

Mary pulled the book towards her as she and Emmeline began to look through it curiously. While they did that, I pulled out the recent letter from my pocket and unfolded it carefully so the seal showed perfectly. "Do you think it will ruin the letter if I use _Engorgio_ to expand it?" I asked my friends; Mary was currently cooing over a cute picture of a Phoenix.

"It shouldn't," Emmeline replied, who was by far the best at Charms in our year. "It should go back to normal when you're done with it."

I nodded and took out my wand. I waved it and nonverbally cast the spell. The seal grew and expanded until we could easily distinguish the four different sized footprints.

"You're so lucky," Mary breathed, eyeing my work with an appraising eye. Mary didn't turn seventeen until next week—only one day before September the first. She was the youngest out of the three of us. Actually, she was probably the youngest in our entire year.

Emmeline clapped her hands tightly in front of her. "Alright, which one are we going to tackle first?"

I glanced at her, surprised. Either she secretly was excited, or she just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. Mary even had a small, proud smile as she observed our dark haired friend—like she was a mother who was watching her child perform magic for the first time.

I pointed my index finger at the footprint in the upper right hand corner of the Marauder's design. "That one," I said, "because I think I already know what it is—it looks like a dog's."

Emmeline swung the book away from Mary and flipped to the index. She ran her finger down the page muttering, "Dog, dog, dog," until her hand came to a stop. "Page 147." Expertly, she flipped backwards through the book and, when she was done, turned the book around so we could all look.

I'm pretty sure Mary and I were staring at her open mouthed. Who was this girl, and what had she done with Emmeline Vance? The words 'Imperius Curse' came to mind, but even if someone was controlling Em I had a feeling that they would be wrecking havoc, not helping a friend. Perhaps Emmeline just had a sudden change of heart…like Potter—maybe that's why they were getting along so well. Speaking of Potter, that reminded me—

"What was with you Potter?" I asked Emmeline.

She was busy examining the paw print on the Marauder's symbol—the one that I thought was a dog—as Mary was comparing it to the ones in the book. Darn Potter for taking away my thoughts that should be on Prongs and his mysterious footprints.

"What are you talking about, Lils?" she asked steadily, as she looked up at me through her dark lashes.

Her innocence looked back at me. Hm, perhaps I _had _imagined it. But, then again, Emmeline was a pretty good liar—better than me anyways.

"That little stare down match you two had," I clarified, licking my ice cream as if this conversation really didn't interest me all that much.

Emmeline chuckled. "He's my Quidditch captain, Lily. Besides, what was I going to do? Avert his eyes like you?" I crossed my arms indignantly as she continued. "Now, are you going to help us, or not?"

Well. That was that then. If there was anything to worry about—_if_—I wasn't going to get anything else out of her if she didn't want me to know. So, taking a deep break and throwing Potter and his looks out of my mind, I drew my chair around to the other side of the table, closer to my friends. Then, we all began to compare the first print I wanted to examine.

It appeared that I was right. One bigger pad surrounded by four rounder ones. It was a dog's…a big one at that. A huge one—like one of those dogs that resembled a bear rather than a loveable canine. Would we have to match the print to the correct dog—or would it be enough to know that it was a dog?

"What does a dog print have to do with anything?" Mary asked, her brows pulling together and pinching in the middle of her forehead in thought.

"Maybe it reveals something about them—like a personality trait," I suggested. I mean, it was the only thing that made sense. It wasn't as if the prints revealed what type of pets they each had (because that would just be stupid and a total waste of time on my part), and they couldn't _be _animals either—they could write (or at least, one of them could).

"Maybe we should detect them all first, then figure out what it could mean," Em said.

So, we started on the next one. I was pretty sure what that one was as well, because it looked like a dog's, except the four pads were more pointy—a predator.

A wolf?

The confusion and annoyance entered all of our systems as we realized that the print didn't match the one depicted in the book for a basic wolf. I took the book and flipped through the pages that showed every single stinkin' wolf known to man, but none of them matched the one on the emblem. Not exactly. The one the Marauders had used was thinner; the main pad of the foot more human like, stretching out and rounding towards the end.

"What the hell?" Emmeline exclaimed under her breath.

I huffed.

Mary, always the optimist, sighed. "Well, we'll just have to reevaluate this."

I blew my fringe out of my face with a puff of breath. This could take longer than I thought. As I reached out to take my enlarged letter from Prongs back, I felt a steady stream of warm air blowing on the top of my head.

Why was one of my friends _breathing _on me?

"What have you got there?"

Emmeline swore and spun around in a movement so fast that it looked like she was ready for an attack. Mary smiled a small grin as I grabbed Prongs' letter with the emblem and pulled it towards my chest. The last thing I needed was for one of my classmates and fellow Prefect to see me with a letter from the Marauders. I didn't want to be bombarded.

Remus was standing behind us, his hands behind his back in a casual stance. As I looked up at him, his dull blue eyes quickly shifted away from my hands, which were now clutching the note to my chest. My heart skipped a beat.

"Remus, hey," I said, hoping I sounded normal.

He smiled—though it seemed a bit tight to me—at each of us. "Have any of you seen James?" I noticed that his eyes hardened just a smidge as he said his mate's name. Were they in some type of argument? Maybe that's why Potter had been hiding on in a store he otherwise wouldn't be seen in. Huh. Interesting.

Mary nodded enthusiastically, apparently not noticing anything unusual about Remus as I was. "Yeah, outside of Flourish & Blotts about—oh, I dunno-thirty minutes ago?" She looked at us for back up.

"Yeah, it looked like he and Sirius were heading for QQS," Emmeline answered while she was still half-absorbed in the pictures of the wolves.

QQS?

It seemed as if Remus didn't have trouble understanding what Em had said. "Of course. I should've known. Quidditch is their calling."

Oh, Quality Quidditch Supplies—QQS. Ha. Funny.

Remus laughed shortly, and he shifted his weight from one leg to the other rather uncomfortably, his eyes darting infinitesimally to the book, which was open on the wolf page, to Em, who was hunched over it. Again, it seemed I was the only one who had noticed these little behaviors. Perhaps I _was _paranoid—or obsessive. Either one would work.

And then he met my gaze. It was as if we were locked in some epic battle of a staring contest before he quickly looked away and coughed into his fist. "I better go make sure they don't destroy anything—see you ladies on the express." He waved once before turning his back and walking down the street in the opposite direction. There was something hard in the way he walked, like he had a purpose that he was marching towards.

Oh, Merlin. I really was obsessive. First the prints, then Potter's personality change, and now Remus's weirdness. Insanity really didn't seem so far off. Why did I care about Potter? What did it matter that it seemed like Remus had a wand up his butt and a twitch in his eye that caused him to look at my book and note? It didn't—not really, in the big scheme of things.

I should only be worrying about these prints, like I had started off my day doing—

Jeez. I had it bad.

But, just in case we ran into another one of our classmates…"Maybe we should regroup," I said, waving my wand around the letter so that the emblem shrank down to its original size. I began folding it.

"I agree. I'm hungry, and I'm out of ice cream and money," Em brought up. "Besides, I'm beginning to think this idea was crazy," she admitted, pointing to the ensemble of Prongs related stuff that I was currently stuffing into my bag.

"Crazy—yes. Impossible—no," Mary said, laughing slightly. She reached out and patted my arm; I guess I looked upset, or annoyed. I tried to do a quick scan of my face to see what Mary saw now. "No worries, Lily; all we need is more time."

"The train then?" I asked.

"You'll have Head Girl duties," Emmeline pointed out rationally.

"No more than an hour," I promised.

Mary laughed again. "Lily, with James Potter as your partner, I would plan for more than an hour."

I sank my head into my arms. It was _so _like Mary to bring up Potter, my cursed Head B—I couldn't even say the word in accordance with that boy. It was like I would taint the position or something. I was ridiculous.

"The train," I pushed again, hugging them both. Because, no matter what Mary said, I was set on getting in and out of that Head compartment in an hour—forty-five minutes if I could manage it. Because spending time dwelling on Prongs was preferable to sitting in a small compartment on the Hogwarts' Express with James Potter.

* * *

_And there you have it. Chapter 5. Hope it made up for that last, short, filler chapter! And, in case you're wondering about the missing song lyrics that I usually put up at the beginning of the chapter, my beta informed me that we're technically not allowed to have song lyrics up...and, I don't feel like taking the risk. Also, I couldn't find a good song that fit with this chapter. Haha. _

_Thanks for reading! And it would be wonderful if you could leave a review! I'll try to reply to everyone. _

_--HeyLookTheSnitch_


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** _I can't think of any creative way to say this, so I'll just say it: Harry Potter is not mine. Thanks._

**A/N:** _Infinite x's and o's to: Emma Jean Jumping Bean, DanceDiva, -Jeisa-, Comicrileef, Peachy goldfish, LyLMystikeLf, Kira2667, shetlandlace, dyingimmortal, Magical Singer Gal, Faye, ParadiseDreams, Adosia, Twilight Obsesser, beinginfinite, NeverAPrefect, bookworm2butterfly, muddy worm, cutedoggy37, Cherrykisses21, Sprut, SoManyObsessions, JadeLA, Lemondrop xxx, Tyem Marodyor, Loves to dance, coffee dessert, iheartjamesandlily, ellesra, PenguinBuddy, Anime Wildfire, grayx3eyedsoul, Kiley 1 09, VVish, and e.jameson. I'm burnin' up, burnin up, for YOU, baby. :)_

_So, I survived my first three weeks of college! YAY! What's even more amazing is that I survived the first week of track practice...no, seriously, I can hardly walk I'm in so much pain. But, it's all good. I'm gonna have some beastly muscle when I'm done here! lol!_

_And I know some of you got replies from me, and then college started...and everything went downhill from there. I'll try to get back into the swing of things this time around. Oh, and some of you asked questions about Remus's odd behavior...well, you'll find out why he was acting the way he was right now. Go read!_

_With that said, here's the next chapter! (Obviously...why else would I be here? lol) Have fun with it. It starts getting a little bit more juicy! _

_Happy reading!_

* * *

**Chapter 6: Bewilderingly Befuddled**

"_Ha, Ha, Ha.  
__...  
__I don't get it."_  
--Personal quote of mine

* * *

_Dear Prongs,_

_My summer was impossibly dull. Nothing of interest really happened, except that I accidently shot red sparks out of my wand at my sister when she crept into my room at one in the morning; honestly, I thought she was a Death Eater or something. Turns out I had commandeered her sweater. My mistake._

_I feel bad for your poor mother, having to put up with you and your friends. She must be going pre-maturely grey. Perhaps you should think about that the next time you start redecorating her living room. And, for the record, don't ever feed your owl tea…I was eleven and didn't know what owls liked—so I offered my friend's owl some of my tea…well, just don't try it._

_So, you _have_ taken your O.W.L.'s. Either you're a sixth year or a seventh year then; I don't give up on things easily. As for your question—I'd have to say my favorite animal is a black stallion. Call me cliché, but after reading Black Beauty (a Muggle novel about a horse), I was in love. They're so free-willed and strong, yet calm and majestic once they don't feel threatened. I tend to like things with those qualities._

_So, as for my question, I'm sending yours straight back at you. What's _your _favorite animal?_

_Anxiously waiting for September 1__st__,_

_Lily._

OOO

"Did you two _see _Will? He looks like he could crush the Whomping Willow between his thumb and pinky."

Mary was currently gushing about a fellow Gryffindor she'd spotted on the platform at Kings Cross station as Emmeline levitated our trunks onto the racks above the seats. I was pinning my Head Girl badge onto my robes, subtly polishing it so my friends wouldn't tease me for my 'prefection.'

"I suppose he must have worked out over the summer—James did tell him he needed to bulk up," Emmeline explained in a bored tone, flopping backwards onto a seat and leaning her head against the headrest.

"But for a sixth year—_damn."_

I couldn't help but laugh. "We were just sixth years last year, Mary."

She grinned, her eyes scanning the people walking outside of our carriage; I had no doubt that she was looking for William Boyson, Chaser on our house's Quidditch team. Mary and her boys… "Details," she said, waving off my observation.

So typical. That was the thing with Mary; I always knew what to expect from her. She was consistent. Reliable. Emmeline was too—to some extent. She tended to have more mood swings than the rest of us, but that was part of her consistency, I supposed.

I liked to think I was dependable, constant. Sturdy. I didn't get into serious relationships. I'd never really done anything outrageous, out on a whim—well, there was that time I went swimming in the Black Lake at two in the morning. Hm. At least I didn't get detentions—well, except for that time in fourth year…oh, yeah, and third; I went to class—though, most of the time I could've ditched and not missed anything at all. And I suppose my relationship with Severus Snape had shaken a few people up. No doubt my friendship with Prongs had seemed random and outrageous behavior to Em, but otherwise…alright, no, maybe dependability wasn't one of my strongest points.

But as for Potter—

He simply _was_ Potter.

And perhaps that was his own regularity…or irregularity.

Enough said.

I glanced at my watch and repressed a groan of anxiety. The only thing that was making me nervous about my new Headship, which should have been a purely joyful responsibility, was that I had to work with James Potter. Although, after I weighed the chances of him actually showing up, I felt a little bit better. Or worse. It all depended on how I felt like looking at the situation.

Emmeline must have seen the small scowl take shape on my face, because she looked at me and winked. "Time to go off and collaborate with _le maître d'hasard?"_

I glowered, but the corners of my lips twitched. "Duty calls."

Making sure that my robes were straight and my hair was presentable, I slid the door to our compartment open. "I'll see you in a few."

"And then it's footprint time?" Mary asked expectantly, her eyes shining as they left the outside corridor for a brief second.

"Don't even _think_ about starting without me," I warned both of them, though I think Mary was the only one I really had to worry about. Emmeline was more likely to hide the book from me then scour it without me being there. Though she'd been perfectly reasonable about the whole thing, really.

And, just as I was walking from our compartment, I heard Mary call out, "_Hey_, Will," in that voice of hers that was usually reserved for blokes—good-looking blokes. Good-looking blokes with a high dating-potential.

Em groaned immediately, slapping her palm to her forehead; I increased my walking velocity; neither of us liked being around Mary when she put on her flirtatious face. It made Emmeline feel embarrassed. It made me feel like there was something wrong with me, seeing as I couldn't flirt with a guy without feeling the least bit nauseated. Merlin, what was wrong with me?

I smelled Will's aftershave as he strutted by me and into our compartment, apparently thrilled with receiving attention from an older girl, especially one as versatile as Mary. What, with the number and variety of boys she'd hooked up with, there was no other choice but for the girl to be flexible.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked, his voice deep, and I had a feeling he was trying to sound older than his sixteen years. Mary's excited chatter followed my back as I walked further along the train until I could hear it no longer.

Sometimes I wished I could be like Mary; easy-going with boys and the attention from them. The few times I had tried, the two times I had dated, it had felt…wrong. Uncomfortable. Fake. Like I was putting on a show for the rest of my year. With Prongs, however, there was no need for me to feel any of that. No one else knew of our relationship. There were no expectations to be met. It was different. I liked it.

Though it didn't stop me from thinking there must be something unbalanced with my hormone levels.

As I continued on my way to the front of the train, where the Prefects and Heads compartment was located, I caught snippets of conversation from groups of friends catching up on their summers. I have a tendency to enjoy listening in on other people's lives—wow, that sounds bad, but I don't mean it like that. It was just a nice feeling—to listen, but not have to talk.

"…my mum took me and my brother to a football game—you know, that Muggle game where players kick a ball around…"

"…did you finish that essay for McGonagall? Can I look at it? It was supposed to be two feet, but I only have one and a half. Do you think she'll notice?"

"…completely off of his rocker."

I halted. I think the last one brought on my frozen reaction because I actually recognized the voice. A few feet down the train's corridor, I could just make out the little plaque that read "Prefect's Meeting Room." I looked at my watch again.

Two minutes.

I should keep going.

"Are you sure that's what you saw?"

"Pete—I've got perfect twenty, twenty vision."

Though the voices were a bit muffled because they were coming behind the tinted glass of the carriage door, I could still distinguish the voices. Remus and Peter. And I'm sure Sirius and Potter were in there as well. Whatever, it held no personal interest to me—I had Prefects to attend to.

"If Evans finds out—there _will _be hell to pay."

My head automatically turned, placing my ear closer to their compartment door.

"I just can't believe P—"

"—Sirius!"

"—_James_ would be so incredibly stupid."

Actually, I could believe it. Too bad they hadn't asked my opinion. Too bad I had no clue what was going on. Well, at least I knew one thing; Potter _wasn't _in there with them.

Someone on the other side sighed heavily—my bet was on Remus, because Black never showed weakness, and Peter didn't seem like he had big enough lungs to breathe in that deeply.

"We should talk to him," Remus said.

"Shit will hit the fan," Sirius commented easily, which I supposed was ironic seeing as this conversation seemed pretty serious. Trust Black to take everything lightly. "You know how defensive he gets, especially about Evans."

Defensive? Why would Potter get defensive about me? Merlin, it really was annoying to sit here and hear them talk about me but have no clue as to what it could all mean.

"It's either we talk, or we watch everything crash and burn," Remus replied.

"After the Prefect's meeting, then?" Peter suggested.

"Crap. It starts in a minute. I should go."

Shoot. A minute? Darn these boys for distracting me with all this talk about mysterious feuds and… and then I realized that if Remus came out right now and saw me standing by their door with my head craned towards their compartment like an eavesdropper—well, that wouldn't be very Head Girlish.

I stood up straight, my mind still reeling in order to form their conversation together logically in my head, and took one step forward.

"My vote is for after the feast tonight—you know how he is. The more treacle tart in him, the better," Sirius advised.

I jumped forward as their compartment door slid open, shaking slightly as it slipped into its frame with a bang. It was time for me to act like I'd been heading somewhere else. I pulled my bag tightly to my chest and walked casually—or at least as casual as I could make it while I was so utterly befuddled—towards the Prefect's and Head's meeting.

"Lily! It's not like you to be so late."

I plastered a small smile onto my face. "Technically I still have a good thirty seconds."

Remus grinned—perfectly at ease. Dang, I hoped I was as good at hiding my inner turmoil as he was. "Still, cutting it a little close for you, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well, prolonging my time around Potter unnecessarily isn't in my agenda."

He glanced at me warily, something that I think he didn't expect me to notice—which I probably wouldn't have if I hadn't heard their conversation—before he grasped the doorknob of the carriage door and swung it open. "Touché," he joked, winking.

Wow. He was good.

"Fifteen seconds to spare. A little risky for you, isn't it, Evans?"

Remus chuckled slightly, despite their current spiff. "That's what I said."

Dang. Remus Lupin really _was_ good; and I had always thought he was so innocent…

I glared at both of them. A comeback just threatened to launch itself at Potter, but I quickly realized that the room was full of Prefects and I was supposed to be someone they could look up to. It would just have to wait until later.

"Wish me luck," I mumbled to Remus, before I left his side and respectfully positioned myself beside Potter, who stood at the front of the group. Besides, if Remus could put whatever problem he had with Potter out of his mind for right now, so could I.

Speaking of Remus and his problem with Potter—

No, concentrate. That could wait for later as well.

"Happy to see you haven't gotten yourself into any trouble in the last couple of weeks, Evans." Potter grinned, his hazel eyes twinkling with laughter, as he whispered to me in an undertone, for the Prefects were watching us expectantly.

I kicked his shoe. Stupid Potter…thought I was so clumsy—running into doors, tripping, whatnot—jerk. "Let's just get this over with," I hissed back.

"After you then," he announced promptly, smirking.

Oh, he was lucky there were about thirty witnesses.

So, instead of creating a scene, I pushed my red hair over my shoulder and smiled at the assembled group. I clenched my hands at my sides, knowing that they would probably be quite sweaty soon enough; I wasn't great under pressure.

"Hello. Welcome back to the older Prefects and congratulations to the newly appointed ones. My name is Lily Evans, and I'll be your Head Girl for this year—" I could've sworn I heard Mulciber snort in the background—"and this is Potter, the Head Boy."

"Really, I don't mind if you call me James," Potter said, throwing a small wink at me that I don't think anyone else caught.

A few of the girls giggled as he waved politely.

Could he be any more of an attention-seeker? I rolled my eyes.

The rest of the meeting passed as all Prefect meetings often do at the beginning of the year; informative and a little dull. A lot of the new Prefects had questions, and all of the older ones had none, hoping that they would be dismissed early. Patrol schedules were passed around, as were the passwords for each house. Potter was surprisingly helpful, but I think it was because he liked to be recognized as a leader. Whatever. As long as I wouldn't be stuck doing all the work. Though it would probably go a lot smoother if he weren't there to help me, especially when the other Prefects wouldn't be there to help dwindle my temper.

Finally, after a long forty-seven minutes, Potter announced, "Well, that's that then. You're all dismissed if there are no other questions."

Of course, there weren't, and it was the first real time that Potter said something that had actually caused me relief. I gathered my patrol schedule and notepad into my bag as a fifth year Hufflepuff talked to Potter about meetings and patrols interfering with his Quidditch practice—what was it with guys and Quidditch?—and then, after the bulky fifteen year old had left, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I spun around.

"I'd say that went well."

"Very well, indeed, all things considered," I responded cheekily, getting him back for his earlier comment about my nearly-late-but-not-quite timing.

Potter clapped his hands behind his back and watched me with a serious expression on his face. He looked so abnormal—with his eyes piercing into mine and his jaw set tightly in a line—that it nearly took my breath away.

Nearly.

"I think you'll come to find that I can be quite a good protector of the rules," he said.

My heart was thumping, its rhythm uncomfortably uneven, as I swallowed thickly. "We'll see," I managed to get out. My brain felt quite fuzzy. Wasn't I supposed to be acting quick-witted?

He nodded, and I noticed how his fringe fell into his eyes as he did so, before he smirked at me quickly. "I'll see you around."

And just like that—with that one grin and four words—I found myself infuriated with him again.

OOO

Even as we investigated the footprints and attempted to match them up correctly to the Marauder's symbol, I couldn't seem to get Potter or his friends' conversation from the train out of my head. It kept distracting me, with random words such as 'feast', 'defensive', and even 'vision'—which were pretty common words in a book about animals—drawing up the memory. It was as if my subconscious was trying to tell me something, that somehow these prints, Potter, and the boys' mysterious conversation were entwined together. I think it was just because I was trying to juggle all those different things on my mind at the same time.

I found this distraction quite frightening, considering that Prongs usually had the ability to take everything and anything off of my mind.

Both Mary and Emmeline could tell something was up. Emmeline looked smug—perhaps thinking that, at last, I was tired of trying to figure Prongs out—while Mary delved into the mystery with more enthusiasm, hoping to spur me on.

The only paw print we had correctly identified was still the dog's. We had come close to one other—it was either a mouse or a rat—and we weren't quite sure how to distinguish it completely. The weird wolf-like print still perplexed us, and we had currently set that one aside until new inspiration hit. The last one we had barely had time to tackle yet.

I was hoping that Prongs would reply to my last letter quickly, thinking that if he told me his favorite animal it would help us with one of these footprints. Of course, it would be a wasted effort if he said dog, since we'd already confirmed _that_ one.

"This _is_ getting quite tedious," Emmeline complained later that night, as we were spread out on the floor of our dorm.

"Hey, did you know that the best-known species of rat is the Black Rat?" Mary questioned, promptly ignoring Emmeline's pessimism.

For the love of Godric Gryffindor and his family, what is Black, Remus, and Peter worried that I'll find out?

See what I mean about this animal book bringing on the distractions?

What is important enough to have them confront Potter? No doubt this confrontation would lead to a fight, from the sound of things, considering Black wanted to stuff Potter with dessert first—

An idea sprung to my head, and before I could realize the stupidity of it, I leapt into action.

"Hey, I'll be right back," I told my friends, pushing myself off of the ground suddenly and grabbing my bathrobe from my bed.

Mary glanced at me, shocked. "Where're you going?" she asked.

Well, I didn't quite know how to answer that one, for I wasn't even sure where I was going. Who knew where those four boys could be at this hour. The school was huge and an easy place to get lost in.

"I've got to do something…Head Girl stuff."

Emmeline sat up, resting her back against her school trunk. "I have to finish the assignment for Flitwick, anyways," she said.

I looked at her, bewildered that, despite having all summer to finish the assignment, she still hadn't completed it, before I shook my head and slipped on my shoes. "I'll be back soon."

Mary sighed, her eyes a little wistful, apparently upset that we were all abandoning her. "I suppose we'll resume this later, then. Hey, I wonder if Will is down in the common room…"

So, with that said, I left Mary to contemplate on her new infatuation and Emmeline to her books, and headed down the girls' staircase. I wasn't sure why I hadn't told Emmeline or Mary about my curiosity towards the four Gryffindor boys. Well, actually, I know why I withheld this from Mary—she would have pounced on the opportunity of me being interested in some boys, even if it was just for mysterious sakes. As for Em, well, who knew? She was friends with them, and she would have probably told me that it was none of my business and that I was probably just being paranoid.

It _was _probably nothing.

But until I figured that out, that dumb animal book would continue to remind me of those ridiculous boys.

So, where to look first? Sirius had said that he didn't want to confront Potter until after the feast, until he was well fed and content. The best guess would probably be their dormitory.

Ugh.

Their dormitory.

The boys' dormitory.

I stood in the middle of the common room, biting my lip and, for the first time, realizing that this was probably a really stupid thing to do. What if I was caught standing outside of their dorm? A boy's dorm? 

Not even a Head Girl for twenty-four hours, and rumors would already be flying—"That Lily Evans girl, yeah, the Head Girl, I heard she was caught peeping into the seventh year boy's room."

Oh, really. One look couldn't hurt. Just to see if they were in there. I could pretend I had to talk to Potter about Head stuff. Yeah, that was as good of an alibi as any.

Goodness, just listen to me? I felt like a criminal.

Well, I _was_ invading their privacy.

Bullocks. Just do it, Lily.

I kept my ears strained as I walked up each stair, smiling an innocent apology at people who were walking down them, as if to say, "It's only Head Girl and Boy stuff—tedious, I know." And then the stairway gave way to the hardwood floor that led into the different years' dormitories. I glanced around quickly and easily found the seventh year door. It was nearly the same setup as the female side, anyways.

Some vague part of my mind realized that I hadn't heard any shouting yet. I had been expecting a fight, knowing that Potter wouldn't back down if he had already made up his mind on something ; however, these were his best mates, so maybe it was different than fighting with—oh, I dunno—me maybe?

No one was around now. It was completely empty. I could hear the happy conversations of my fellow Gryffindors downstairs, but still nothing from the place I expected to hear things from.

I walked closer.

I was just about four inches away when I heard them. It was Remus, and there was no shouting, though the way in which he spoke was probably more frightening.

"…completely irresponsible," Remus was saying, in such a disappointed fashion that, if I were Potter, I would surely cringe. "What if she realizes—what are we going to do—we can't _stop_ her."

"She won't."

And Potter said that with such conviction that I actually felt some comradeship for him, at that moment. Well, that is if he _was_ talking about me. Which, I hoped he was, otherwise I would've made this nothing into a huge something.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

"Look—you're completely taken with her, for some bizarre reason, so, of course, in your eyes, she's likely to do no wrong. So, forgive us for questioning your sanity, mate," Sirius explained quickly.

I felt myself arching forward in order to get closer.

Potter was taken with me? _Still? _But, last year—

"You should have talked to us before," Peter accused. "It's not only your secret."

"I'm not daft, Peter," Potter shot back sharply, his voice dark.

"How long?" Remus asked in a resigned tone.

"How long what?" Potter retorted. Clearly, he was fed up with being ganged up on by his mates.

There was a silence. I couldn't tell what was happening.

Then I heard a fist slam into something—a bedpost perhaps?—and Sirius exclaimed, "Bloody hell! What is _wrong_ with you?"

A door slammed from further down the boys' hallway, and I quickly retreated a few steps, holding out my hand as if to knock on their door. A tiny second year scurried past me, sparing me a questioning glance. So, what else could I do?

My fist shook as I knocked on the fighting blokes' door.

Their voices immediately stopped. The second year whisked away down the stairs—darn him. I wish I could've followed his lead. Perhaps there was still time to run for it—

"Lily?" Peter yelped, sticking his slightly pink face through the small crack in the door he'd made.

"Er, hello, Peter," I greeted, trying to keep my tone level. Darn it, what was my excuse for being here again? Head duties? Yeah, okay, but what? "Um, I just need to talk to Potter about—"

At that important and crucial moment, while I was trying to come up with my lie, someone swung the door open wider and Potter's face appeared beside Peter's. In contrast to Peter's anxious appearance, Potter looked positively wild. His hair was incredibly messy, his eyes were darker than normal, his face was flushed with anger, and his robes were undone with his tie hanging lopsidedly around his neck.

For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. Before I knew it, I found myself feeling _sorry _for the guy. I didn't even feel awkward—which I should have, because, after all, I had just heard that he _fancied_ me…"Erm, Potter, I—I lost my schedule…for patrols…"

I wished I had an invisible hand to slap myself with.

In my peripheral vision, I could just make out Sirius and Remus, both of whom were standing against the back wall, glaring off into space. I trained my focus onto Potter again.

He simply stared at me for a few seconds, as if he wasn't quite sure what was happening, before he strode to his bed, grabbed his bag, threw it over his shoulder, and met me back at the door, shoving Peter out of the way.

"I'm going out," he said strongly, as if daring any one of his friends to object. And, with that, he grabbed my wrist tightly and spun me in the opposite direction so we were no longer looking into his dormitory, slamming the door shut with a snap.

We were alone.

It was quiet.

There was some sort of _zing _in the tense atmosphere around us.

Maybe I should have Filch check out the plumbing…

He loosened his hold on me, but didn't let go, pulling me along down the stairs, into the common room, and out of the portrait hole. I was so confused, and completely caught off guard, that I didn't even try to get away from him, which I should have because he bloody _fancied_ me and all. I didn't even think about how it must look to the on looking Gryffindors—James Potter dragging Lily Evans from the boys' staircase.

The castle was quiet as he continued to lead me through the corridor. After a minute, he stopped and swung me around to look me in the eye. He was breathing heavily, his fingertips still forming a grip around my wrist. His eyes were narrowed as he appraised me, as if he were accusing _me _of all people.

"How much did you hear?" he asked hoarsely.

I startled.

_Oh, just that you like me, and that your friends don't like it._

"What are you—?"

"Just tell me the truth, Evans."

I wanted to cross my arms, but he still had one of mine in a vice-like grip. "I just want a patrol schedule."

His lips twitched, as if he were trying not to smile. "_You_ don't lose things."

"Well, starting now, I just have."

He pursed his lips, his gaze never leaving my face. Once again, he had the strange, serious look in his eyes, the look that made my breathing hitch and stop. Somehow, somewhere within those few seconds of silence, he had dropped my wrist from his hand. I swirled it in circles, getting the blood going again.

"Sorry," he said.

"No harm done."

"No." He shook his head. "Sorry for what you had to hear."

I must not be a very good liar. Or he really did have tabs on me, in which case he already knew I had been there outside their door. I decided to go with the truth.

"Potter, I didn't understand any of what I heard—which wasn't much—so, don't worry."

Though, of course, _I _would worry.

He sighed. "They're just angry that I—that I'm being nice to you." He shrugged.

I stared at him carefully. I thought about how he was last year—how he had ignored me, and when he chose not to, how rude and cutting he had been—and then I thought about his miraculous change this year. How this year, I actually found myself feeling bad for him and his problems. How I wasn't spazzing out after finding out about his infatuation with me—again.

His explanation made a little sense, if his friends were used to him being indifferent towards me.

But why would his friends think that he was being irresponsible?

"They're afraid that I'll…tell you some things that they don't want me to share with you. Apparently, your Head Girlship frightens them."

I swear he could read minds.

I wiped my hands on the inside of my robe, and then clutched the cloth tighter to my body. "Well, I suppose you shouldn't tell me those things then," I responded.

As he stared at me, I had this odd feeling that he was trying to read my thoughts, or make up his mind on his own. I heard a pair of feet pattering against the stone floor further down the corridor, and I glanced in that general direction, uncomfortable with the way Potter was watching me.

And then he nodded. "I suppose I shouldn't."

I nodded too. "My friends are probably wondering where I got off to."

"Right. Mine too."

Yeah, it probably wasn't good for him to be with me long if his friends were worried about him telling me things. As for these 'things', what were they? Great, just something else to keep me curious. They were probably just prank ideas, or something idiotic like that. I wouldn't put it past them to take things like that so seriously.

And yet…

We made it all the way back to the common room without talking again. I looked up at him as we entered; his jaw was clenched shut. I had the strange urge to feel sorry for him again. "Potter, I—" he looked at me—"I hope things work out."

As I turned to the girls' staircase, he caught my arm and held me there. "Here," he said, and handed me a piece of paper.

I looked at him curiously, and then flipped over the parchment; a patrol schedule.

He was smirking at me, as if we now shared an inside joke. "Try not to lose it, again."

I glared, my sympathy for him evaporating slowly as my awkwardness and embarrassment began to settle in. I breathed in deeply. "Goodnight, Potter," I muttered, before I sprang up the stairs and into my dorm.

Great.

I had an inside joke with James Potter.

That was too intimate for comfort.

Especially since he seemed to _like _me.

And to make my life even more hectic, the Marauders had a prank planned for the following morning.

* * *

_Once again, thanks a billion to my awesome beta, chattypandagurl. You did an awesome job! And, I love all of the comments you make--they help me so much! :) Thanks again!_

_So, there you have it. I'm not sure when I'll update next, but maybe if you review I'll try to write this weekend! :) _

_Thanks for reading everyone! Hope you enjoyed it!_

_Have a wonderful Friday and a fantastic weekend!_

_--HeyLookTheSnitch_


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** _I'm not going to waste my time coming up with a clever way to say that Harry Potter does NOT belong to me. Instead, let's just get straight to the next long-awaited chapter, how about it?_

**A/N:** _Okay, first of all I would like to thank all of you who reviewed for, well, reviewing. Seriously, if it weren't for the comments you guys leave, the pestering you guys do to get me to write, or the pushing you guys give me to read some Twilight to get my creative writing juices flowing then this chapter would probably never have been finished...well, alright, it probably would have but not for another few months. So, thank you so incredibly much to: Kana2k, sunstone-dono, Kitty East, zozotheterrible, kitsune-oni, TheNextCullen332, Kiife, Sprut, anonymous, Tris-WannaBe, Emma Jean Jumping Bean, CrimeShowAddiction, drumer girl, LyLMystikeLf, HalfBloodDragon, A-Lady, Unashamed1, Adosia, queenphebee, Butterfly1989, DanceDiva, freedec12, Evilgal, Mouse and Stupid Productions, Bellas-lullaby, Kiley 1 09, Jess-siriusly, cutedoggy37, JadeLA, shetlandlace, NeverAPrefect, Kira2667, jasmin117, ..., MissSaraJean-Jellybean47, grayx3eyedsoul, muddy worm, austenfan92, the ketchup queen, Lucykevinfan, , Cherrykisses21, evizyt, coffee dessert, KatrinaEagle, Jessiquie, ellesra, SoManyObsessions, Lemondrop xxx, and Tyem Marodyor. For real, you all make my day!_

Beware: _The following chapter is unedited. I've sent it off to my beta (if she's still around, because, let's face, I haven't been around myself for the past three months), but I wanted to post this chapter as soon as possible to give you all a special gift in time for the holidays. With that said, I'm sorry in advance for any grammar mistakes, sentences that don't make sense, or words that seem to be made up._

_Rest of author's note is at the end._

* * *

**RECAP**--Alright, since it's been so long, here's a short recap of everything that has happened so far: Prongs and Lily have started up a friendship via owl mail that began in fifth year after one of the Marauders'--a mysterious, unknown group--prank. Lily's two best friends, Emmeline and Mary, both have different ideas as to what Lily should do about the notes. Emmeline pushes for Lily to stop the contact with Prongs, finding him untrustworthy, as Mary encourages it because she sees it as an oppurtunity full of romantic possibilites. Nevertheless, because of her own curiosity, Lily continues to write to Prongs, finding a comfortable relationship with a bloke that she has never experienced before. The summer before seventh year, Lily buys a book on animal footprints in the hopes of finding out clues about who Prongs really is by deciphering the Marauders' emblem that they leave after every prank and on her letters--a symbol made up of four different footprints. Meanwhile, James Potter is going through mood swings when it comes to his feelings for Lily: one year he's convinced he's in love with her, the next he completely ignores her. Then seventh year begins, and Lily overhears a conversation between Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James as the three other boys rally against James by telling their mate how dangerous it would be for James to have a relationship with Lily (or so, that's what Lily thinks it's about). And while all of this is going on, Lily's still waiting on Prongs' response to her last letter, hoping that he has answered her last question--what's your favorite animal--in hopes of figuring out one of the footprints on the Marauders' seal.

Phew. So, that's about it, I think. The last chapter ended off with a heart to heart moment (of some sorts) between Lily and James pertaining to the conversation she overheard and lost patrol schedules. Lily also tells us that the Marauders have a prank prepared for the following day.

And there you go. Happy reading!

* * *

**Chapter 7: An Owl Named Potter**

_I took a chance,  
I took a shot,  
And you might think I'm bulletproof  
But I'm not. __  
_--Tell Me Why, Taylor Swift

* * *

"Did you _see _that?"

"—and then the schedules flew right out of McGonagall's hands—"

"—my timetable hit me in the nose!"

"—the Marauders must have used a tracking spell. There's just no other way…"

Yes, yes, the prank had been amazing, but didn't these people have anything better to do than standing around in the dining hall talking about it? I had places to be, things to do, letters to read…

I fought my way through the exodus of excited, gossiping students as I attempted to get out of the Great Hall and into the much emptier entrance hall. The prank had taken up most of the morning (the Marauders had somehow bewitched all of our school schedules so that they flew around the Great Hall in a mass of papery disarray before they flew to each of their owners), thus by the time every person had obtained theirs, five minutes remained to get to the first class of the day. Students and even professors had immediately jumped up and rushed towards the double doors, causing the traffic jam I was now fighting against.

"Lily, we have to be in Potions in four minutes—"

I patted Emmeline on the shoulder. "I'll be there."

"Oh, _right_. Dear Slughorn adores you."

I shot Emmeline a look as I pushed forwards into a space that had appeared a few feet ahead. "Does not." My breaths came out in gasps as I tried to push myself into a gap between two fifth years.

"Does so," Em fought back, grabbing the back of my robes so she was able to keep up with me, "besides, the letter will surely be there after—"

"Emmeline," I said, giving her a smile, "even if I do go to class with you now, I will most certainly not be able to concentrate; I bet you half the class will be late anyways."

It was true. With the backup of kids trying to get to their classes, Slughorn wouldn't even notice if I walked in a few seconds late. Actually, Slughorn was probably still up at the staff table eating the last bit of eggs he could consume. I would probably even beat my professor to class. Not to mention that Slughorn _did _seem to hold a soft spot for me.

Finally, using the hesitation of a group of first years who were trying to figure out which way they should go once they made it out of the claustrophobic room, I took three long strides by the eleven year olds and into the entrance hall. Some kids headed up the stairs, some headed down them, and some headed outdoors, all of them still discussing this morning's prank.

"Save me a spot," I told Emmeline before I whisked up the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room.

My pulse quickened as did my feet. I glanced at my wristwatch quickly as I rounded the corner of the fifth floor corridor and headed towards another set of stairs. Shoot. I should have asked Potter to make a distraction to keep my professor from getting to class on time…

Just by the fact that I even thought about asking Potter for a favor—let alone anything—proved how much of a frenzy I was in.

I took the moving staircase two steps at a time, stopping at the last one; I waited, tapping my fingernails against the railing, for the staircase to stop at the seventh floor. Twenty seconds later, it did, and I jumped off of it, hurtling myself down the hall and in front of the portrait hole. "Lion's den," I panted to the Fat Lady. If I hadn't been so tired, I would have rolled my eyes at the password that Potter had chosen.

My heart was running like a wild Hippogriff as I blasted into the common room, causing a few of the upper classmen who had no classes this morning to stare at me, the out-of-breath, flushed Head Girl. Ignoring them, I bounded up the stairs.

Sixty-five seconds until class started…

Oh, I hope Prongs answered my last question.

My hands quivered out of excitement as I placed the hand on my doorknob and threw the door open.

What would Prongs have said to me?

I wonder if he'll give me any more clues.

My eyes immediately scanned the room once.

Twice.

My heart spluttered like a broken wand trying to produce a spell.

The room was empty.

I went from anxious excitement to downright depression in about the time span of one second. Where was Harold? Why wasn't there a bloody owl on my pillow, waiting for me with a letter in its miniature beak? Why wasn't I ripping open the Marauder's seal at this very moment? The tips of my mouth curved downwards.

Just in case I had missed something the first two times, I examined every niche and cranny of my dorm, lifting up pillows, opening my trunk. Hey, that owl was tiny; it could fit anywhere! But all it took was another thirty seconds to come to the obvious that I had been trying to deny.

Prongs hadn't written to me.

That knowledge sent a blow to my gut, as if Will—Mary's new Chaser lover—had just crushed my intestines with his Beater's bat. Or, like I'd just swallowed an acid pop whole, and it was dissolving in my stomach, burning my insides.

The back of my legs hit the edge of my bed, and I toppled backwards onto it, sitting there, trying to catch my breath. My eyes focused on one of my bedposts, unable to blink. Okay, I was jumping to conclusions. Perhaps Prongs was late. Maybe Harold had been eaten by some wild animal on his way here.

Wow. Imagining an owl being murdered for centaur chow. I really was in a bad place.

Right. So, maybe Prongs had to get to class—like the rest of us—and hadn't had time to send off the letter. Yes, that must be it. Though he was mysterious, charming, dream-worthy—ahem, get to the point, Evans—he was still a student here and had professors who would give him detentions for being late.

Blood rushed to my head.

Oh, shoot.

Class!

Slughorn!

Potions!

Dungeons!

I stood up from my bed and sprang from my dorm. As I closed the door I couldn't help but look around one last time. Sighing, I closed the door with a snap and turned away.

OOO

"Oh, Miss Evans! Wonderful, simply splendid." Yes, yes, it really was _splendid _wasn't it, Professor? No note. No Prongs. Yes, simply dashing. "Please, sit. I'm sure Mr. Potter can get you up to speed," Slughorn chuckled to himself, patting his stomach. "Though, no doubt you can make it on your own, eh?"

My professor continued to chuckle to himself, continuing his rounds of walking among the students and peering into their cauldrons. I glanced at the board in the front of the room; the draught of happiness. Right, I was only seven minutes late; I could easily catch up. Besides, Emmeline wasn't so bad at Potions—

Wait a second.

Why had Slughorn mentioned Potter?

I looked to my usual spot, the table Emmeline and I shared with Alexander Connoway, a Ravenclaw who had fancied Emmeline for years. It was quite pathetic and adorable, in a sad, desperate kind of way and—why the heck was Potter at my table?

My eyes jumped to where Potter usually sat with his friends, and Emmeline waved hesitantly back at me with Sirius and Remus on either side of her.

Oh for the love of everything magical.

"Hey," I said, dropping my bag next to the table and taking the seat beside Potter.

He stopped cutting up his roots for a second to give me a brief smile. "What kept you?"

Pulling out my potions book, I tried to ignore the disappointment that was building in my chest. "Unsent letters," I muttered.

His hazel eyes glanced at me again before turning his attention back to his cauldron, which was emitting a bright yellow color. It made his face glow and his cheekbones deepen; I found myself staring—he was kind of beautiful.

Oh, dear Merlin. This whole 'not getting a note' thing was affecting me worse than I thought.

I coughed into my hand and then poured water from my wand into my own pewter cauldron, lighting the fire underneath it.

"I'm sorry," Potter said.

"Not your fault," I told him, keeping my eyes on my brewing concoction in case my eyes decided to stray to his face again.

We worked in silence for a few minutes; my forehead was beginning to sweat due to the excessive heat in the room from all of the bubbling potions. It was odd—usually, Potter was the most talkative in the entire class. While most students were silent and concentrating, Potter was always joking around with his mates while still managing to complete the assignment with a passing grade. And I knew that this potion couldn't be taking more of his brain power than what he normally used, because we had studied this potion last year.

Maybe he felt awkward around me because he knew that I heard that he likes me.

But that hadn't stopped him in fifth year.

"Won't your friends be mad at you for sitting with me?" I asked him. His potion was now a dull orange, so I figured it would be okay to look at him again.

He offered a small grin. "In all honestly, they'd probably be angry with me wherever I sat, so I might as well sit next to someone whose company I enjoy."

I felt heat rush to my face, but I hoped that—if Potter noticed—he would just think it was from the fire. What gave him the confidence to say something like that? Never would I be able to do that; well, maybe if it was to Emmeline or Mary…possibly even Severus back before fifth year.

"So, you haven't lost your patrol schedule again, have you?" Potter asked me suddenly, rubbing his hands together and leaning back in his chair.

Was he already finished? We still had fifteen more minutes. And then my stomach flopped uncomfortably as my brain registered his question. The nerve—I did not want to encourage this inside joke with James Potter. "I don't lose things, remember?"

Oh. I had just encouraged it, hadn't I?

His laughter was slightly contagious; I had never noticed before. "Well, then I'll see you tonight. Meet in the common room?"

My brain flew into overdrive. Meet? Common room? Tonight? What? "What are you talking about, Potter?" I asked him shortly. Had I somehow agreed to a date with him that I had no recollection of? Oh, my hippogriff; I thought I had stopped sleep walking five years ago.

"We're on duty tonight," Potter answered. He smirked at me. "I thought you didn't forget things."

Just because I had other things on my mind beside Head patrol hours—like Prongs and his failure to send me my letter—did not mean that I forgot about them. I flicked my wand towards his cauldron, causing the fire to grow steadily. He hadn't noticed.

"Your cauldron's simmering, Potter."

OOO

All I saw was a mass of blonde hair before I was attacked by a petite frame and a surprisingly strong grip. "What did it say?" Mary squealed, holding onto my shoulders and pulling me along with her down the corridor.

"Did you seriously wait outside of our classroom, Mary?" Emmeline's voice asked in an exasperated tone.

Her brown eyes sparkled. "Well, if you must know, I was just having a nice chat with Will and—" she suddenly broke off, glaring at Em. "Oh, don't you try to change subjects on me, missy."

Yes, please, Emmeline, distract her. I mean, don't get me wrong, usually I don't mind gushing with Mary about Prongs—okay, not gushing, per se. Just talking—but the key word here is _usually_. The bloke hadn't written me. There was nothing more interesting to it.

Emmeline rolled her eyes and swatted Mary's finger that she had been shaking at her from her face. "I wasn't trying to change subjects," she protested as we continued down the hall. I could vaguely hear Black muttering to Potter from behind us. "I was simply pointing out your impatient antics," Emmeline continued.

Clearly, Mary must have decided to ignore her, because she turned back to me and grabbed my arm again. Her smile was rather luminous. Ugh. I did not want to see her reaction when I told her that I didn't get a reply. Worst of all, I didn't want Emmeline to see _my _reaction. I would just have to play it cool.

So, before Mary could say a word, I distracted myself by looking in my bag for a random quill—or possibly a gum wrapper—as I answered. "There wasn't a letter."

Still rummaging in my bag, I missed Mary's expression on purpose. However, I wasn't able to miss the fact that she had stopped dead in the hallway, because she was still holding onto my arm. I was thrown backwards from her sudden halt and accidently ran into poor Peter Pettigrew who was trailing after Remus.

"Ow," I muttered, abandoning my search and glancing from Mary to Emmeline. A smug smile was threatening to spread across Em's face; well, at least she _was _trying to conceal it. Good friend.

Mary's face was the worst. It was scrunched up in utter confusion, her bewildered eyes staring at me incredulously. "Didn't write?" she asked. It sounded as if she were trying out the words, as if they were completely foreign to her delicate ears. "But he hasn't missed a day—I mean—"

Thanks for stating the obvious, Mary. I began walking again. "It doesn't matter," I insisted, tossing my hair over my shoulder. Honestly, it had gotten too long. And goodness, my fingernails were disgusting—perhaps I could distract myself by painting them later…

"No big deal?" came Mary's soprano voice as she ran back to my side, squeezing herself between Emmeline and me. "But what about the prints, Prongs, the romance—"

"There was _no _romance," I told her quickly. Though I couldn't deny the fact that I was extremely disappointed from Prongs' lack of response. Oh, Godric. Was I becoming unhealthily attached? Maybe this was good for me.

Oh, who was I kidding?

This was unbearable.

"Personally," Emmeline began, "I'm quite proud of you, Lily."

Yeah, of course she was.

Mary snorted. I could've sworn I heard her mutter, "Typical," under her breath.

"Besides," Em continued, "you and Potter seemed to be getting on pretty well in Potions."

Okay. What did that have to do with anything? "What's your point?" I asked her as we dropped our stuff off by the fireplace in the common room.

"Well, perhaps you'll begin to pay more attention to James rather than Prongs."

Of course.

I should've known her hidden agenda.

Snuggle me up with Potter to get my mind off of Prongs.

Ingenious.

"What's this with you and James, Lily?" Mary piped up, her mind automatically jumping to the next boy at hand.

Great. Now she had Mary going as well. I would never hear the end of this.

"_Nothing_ is going on with me and Potter."

Goodness. Really. It had just been _Potions_. Schoolwork. At the most, I suppose someone could consider us potion buddies for today at least. Alright, so maybe he had some disillusioned idea that we had some connection now because of last night, but honestly, this was Potter we were talking about. He tended to make nothing into something outrageously huge.

Perhaps I was doing the same with Prongs.

Maybe he'll send the letter later.

I mean, he could've just forgotten. After all, he is human…hopefully—h, Emmeline, get out of my head!—and that's the best I could hope for at the moment.

Well, not that Prongs was human; no, I _knew_ that he was. But I _could_ hope that he had basic human flaws—like a short memory—and would eventually remember his pen pal.

We were more than pen pals though. Well, to me we were anyways.

"I still say you two have chemistry," Emmeline said as she pulled out her schedule to examine it for her next class period.

Yeah, because Emmeline was just _so_ good with guys. Her trust issue really pushed her along in that specific department.

Mary sighed a bit dramatically. "Yeah, too bad he didn't write."

"Not _Prongs_," she retorted, putting quotation marks around the word like he wasn't real, "James."

I slammed my Potions textbook on the table. "Will you quit it? Since when do _you_ try to set me up with anyone, for Merlin's sake?" I exclaimed just as Potter and Black clambered through the portrait hole. Sirius shot me a suspicious stare, his eyes narrowed, before he followed a disgruntled Potter up the stairs. "You're deranged," I mumbled grumpily.

Potter and I needed no more chemistry. I mean, look what we'd already done with the pitiful, almost non-existent amount that we had now—we had effectively broken up his friendship with his three best friends.

Clearly, we weren't good for each other.

OOO

Compared to this morning, the dining hall was unusually quiet later that night. First day of classes had officially ended, and already I had had more drama and surprises in my life than I had during the whole of last year combined.

Exhibit one: No letter from Prongs. Still. And it was nearing seven o'clock.

Exhibit two: Inside joke with James Potter. Talk about awkward…and completely unexpected.

Which brings me to exhibit three: Potter seemed to fancy me once again and wasn't being a complete obsessive imbecile about it…yet.

Exhibit four: Sitting next to him in Potions, and _not _being driven to complete insanity. Even though this didn't seem to be as big as him liking me, it was still—in an odd, itsy-bitsy way—its own unpredicted shocker.

And the biggest one of all was exhibit five: Causing a rift between him and Black. Which appeared to be unresolved. Still. Their longest fight was in fifth year when Potter saved Severus's butt from the Whomping Willow. The fight was over within two hours…well, after a duel anyways.

The thing was, no one would have guessed that Potter and his mates were in a fight. No duels, no public displays of insult slashing, no nothing. They sat together in the Great Hall for dinner a few feet down the same bench as me as they piled chicken legs, mashed potatoes, and who knows what onto their plates; Black was telling crude jokes, as usual, that Peter found to be a bit too hilarious, as was normal. Remus sat with his fork in one hand and his new Defense book in the other while Potter mussed his hair after catching his reflection in his spoon.

Nothing seemed to be out of place.

I could see the difference though.

Like the way Potter gripped his silverware too tightly, the vein on the back of his hand popping, whenever Black would look at him with suspicious eyes. Or how Remus was staring at his homework with intensity so strong that I was sure he was deliberately making sure he didn't catch anyone's gaze. Peter was acting just a tad too oblivious, laughing too loudly or chewing his food too much.

I blinked and shrank backwards slightly as Potter's eyes met mine. My heart sped up for inexplicable reasons as I watched the right corner of his lip rise upwards into a small, lopsided grin. He nodded, as if we were exchanging a greeting, before his head dropped away.

Oh, Merlin.

My lungs were working so hard to help me breathe that I thought they were going to explode. Darn Emmeline for spending the whole afternoon sliding in subtle comments about Potter and me. In fact, I was so worried about the possibility of passing out right there in the Great Hall from lack of oxygen that I nearly didn't see the look that passed between Emmeline and Potter.

I held my breath; my eyes narrowed.

What _was_ that? Like, the second time I'd caught them sharing a little eye action? Something was going on—I picked up my butter knife—and that girl had told me _nothing_ was going on—I began to spread the butter onto my roll of bread—there _so _was something going on. I bit into my food, watching Emmeline intently now. She was looking at this morning's newspaper that she must have stashed away in her bag, a bit of a frown on her face, as if _nothing_ whatsoever had just passed between her and Potter.

Hadn't she just been trying to set me up with him?

What was she playing at?

Yeah, well, I didn't care.

Not one bit.

"What were you just communicating to Potter?"

Aw, bugger. My mouth needed to learn when to keep itself shut.

Emmeline looked up at me. Mary wiggled over closer to us, excusing herself briefly from her conversation with Will, her desire to be included in the conversation winning over her yearning to flirt with above mentioned sixth year.

"I saw that too," Mary brought up, throwing her elbows onto the table and leaning towards Em from across the table.

Well, at least I knew I wasn't crazy and seeing things.

"Quidditch stuff," Emmeline said, waving her fork around absent-mindedly.

My lips puckered; I crossed my arms. "Quidditch stuff?" I questioned, trying to keep my voice neutral.

Em nodded. "Yep. You know? Bats, balls, brooms, that kind of stuff."

Quidditch discussions? Already? It was only the first day of school; heck, I hadn't even finished unpacking yet.

Well, boys and their sports…plus Emmeline. Still—

"You want to know what I think?" Mary added, pushing her hair over her shoulder while motioning to Will with her finger that she'd only be one more minute.

"Not really, no."

Mary plowed on ahead anyways, ignoring Emmeline. "I think you two are seeing each other."

I almost pulverized my bread.

"You're absurd."

I glanced from her to Potter. "Well, then, where were you this morning?" I asked, remembering her absence when I woke up this morning. It hadn't seemed odd at the time.

"You know that I go on runs in the morning, Lily."

Oh, she _was _good. No wonder I hadn't thought twice about her disappearance.

Mary smiled coyly and nodded sarcastically. I wanted to get up, reach across the table, and shake the truth out of Emmeline. Wow; what was _that _about? Violence is not the answer. This day had really done a number on me and my emotions.

Darn Prongs and his bloody bird.

I watched as Mary turned her attention back onto dear William, and I observed them for a brief second with my mind still busy deciphering Potter and Emmeline and whatever was going on there. Mary was now giggling at something Will had said, her hand on his bicep, as if she was using it to keep her from slipping off of her seat.

Was it wrong to feel jealous of my friend?

I turned back to Emmeline, who was still flipping through the Daily Prophet. Why was it that all of my friends seemed to be able to get guys—well, alright, Emmeline acted as if she and Potter were nothing, but come on, how daft did she think I was?—and I was only comfortable around a Slytherin who had ditched me for You-Know-Who, and a bloke who I had met via owl?

A few people down, Potter seemed to be fingering something in his school bag.

For some reason, I began to chuckle, thinking about how funny it would be if Potter ended up losing _his _patrol schedule. Hey, actually, that _was _a possibility, given his past, reckless record and all—

Shoot. I had patrol duty tonight.

With Potter, the _Emmeline _lover.

Not to mention obnoxious prat…a prat who I had just found out fancied me but seemed to have some hidden secret going on with my best friend.

_Great_.

Could this year get any more complicated?

OOO

Despite my doubts, patrol went surprisingly well. Conversation actually flowed quite naturally. Potter had a knack for striking up topics that seemed completely random, but they somehow worked. It was a social gift, I suppose. For example, we spent a good thirty minutes talking about Potter's suspicion that Madame Pince and Filch had something going on. Yeah, right, the over-protective but intelligent librarian and the man who ended up as a caretaker? I really think Potter was dropped on the head a few times as a child. Then again, I bet he was a careless and adventurous kid, once of those toddlers who think they're bigger than they are and try to climb stuff that is three times their size—I wouldn't be surprised if at the age of two he'd snuck his dad's broom and took it out for a spin.

Anyways, the point being that I learned Potter and I could be quite civilized—when we weren't arguing about certain faculty love affairs. In fact, when he wasn't either a) asking me out like in fifth year or b) being a total moody loony-bird as in sixth year, Potter was quite an entertaining conversationalist.

"By the way," Potter stated as we began to head back towards the Gryffindor tower, "tell Emmeline I'm getting our practice schedule cleared by McGonagall tomorrow."

Something he had said struck a nerve somewhere in the back of my head. Why couldn't he just tell _dear _Emmeline himself? Seriously, it's not like he didn't see her every day. Keeping my voice neutral, I swung a look at him in such a way that I hoped showed my pseudo indifference. "What's with you and Em, anyways?" I asked him.

"Lion's den," he said.

What?

Lion's den?

Was that like their secret love cave or something?

Ew.

"Sorry?" I asked, trying to keep from getting annoyed with him. I mean, we had had a perfectly fine time; I would hate to be the one to ruin it. Then again, the universe was sure to right itself somehow—Potter and I just couldn't go this long without some sort of rude comment or sarcastic remark.

He smirked that smirk that always made my palms sweaty. "The password, Evans," he chuckled, shoving me in the back with his hand through the portrait hole. I humphed, swiping his hands from me. So, no affair hideout; yeah, a password made much more sense.

"And, nothing's going on."

Likely story—that's what Em had said.

"But—"

"No need to be jealous, Evans," he said with a wink that made my heart splutter, stop, then splutter again.

My arms crossed across my chest, and we both stopped right inside of the portrait hole. "I am _not _jealous, Potter."

"Okay, then," he remarked simply, brushing by me, "then there's no reason to further this conversation."

Ugh. I hated when he acted in this way. The type of way that made me feel like he knew everything, and I was completely out of the loop. And, I couldn't even get mad at him, because he hadn't said anything in a rude way. It was like he had said it in such a way that made his comment seem so completely obvious that even the most dim-witted person in the world should have been able to see it.

I pattered after him wordlessly.

The common room was nearly empty. Since it was only the first day back, homework levels were minimal; students were probably living that up while it lasted. As I pointlessly looked around the room, I nearly toppled right over when Potter suddenly spun around, his hazel eyes shining from the light of the fire. Oh, Merlin, not _this _again. There was something about the flame and his facial features…

"I am curious, though," he began, leaning his back against the edge of a nearby couch, "what gave you the idea that Emmeline and I had something going on?"

Somehow, I kept the blush from my cheeks. Instead, it just made my armpits warm. Trying to keep all of these bodily functions hidden, I shoved him in the shoulder. "I thought you said we had no reason to continue with this."

"Hm, well, I suppose you're right," he said, pushing himself from his casual position.

"Yes, I am," I agreed smugly as we stood facing each other.

"Then again," he countered as he appraised me in amusement, "it _was_ my idea in the first place."

That little bugger. "Obnoxious," I muttered under my breath before I swung my bag at him and hit him in his left hip.

Apparently, I must have underestimated my own strength, because he tottered to the right on one foot, his own school bag slipping from his shoulder. The combination of wobbling on one foot and the weight of his bag shifting from his shoulder to his elbow only made him more unbalanced. Next thing I knew, he was on the ground, his books scattered around him on the carpet.

Laughter erupted from my throat.

"Godric, Evans," he mumbled, "what do you carry in that bag of yours? Baby dragons?"

He began to gather everything back into his bag. One of his ink reserves hit the toe of my school shoes, and I knelt down on my knees to help him, because, after all, it had been my fault; though I couldn't help it if he seemed to be easily lopsided.

I cracked a grin. "You can stay upright on a broom—in the air, might I add—but the second a _girl _hits you with her handbag—"

"That was no handbag," he objected, shoving stuff into his bag, "that was a brick."

Rolling my eyes, I reached out and picked up a folded piece of parchment that was lying beside one of his textbooks. I flipped it over in between my fingers as I handed it to him, the glow from the fireplace illuminating the design on the front…and then I gasped quickly, the breath getting caught in my throat. Our eyes met slowly, like in one of those films when the girl catches her man cheating on her with some harlot. His hand was frozen, extended towards the letter.

I don't think I'd ever felt my heart run so fast—it was going nuts. Even worse than when I go on my yearly jog (seriously, it's a miracle that I'm not huge by now). It was a good thing I was already on the floor, because the shock probably would have sent me sprawling. Because in my hand was a piece of parchment.

A sealed piece of parchment.

A sealed piece of parchment with that emblem of a dog, a rat (or it could possibly be a mouse), that odd, misshapen wolf one, and the other unnamed, undiscovered print.

And it had my name on it.

"Potter," I said slowly, having to swallow thickly, "what are you doing with my letter?

* * *

**Rest of A/N:** _So, there's chapter 7. I really don't have a good excuse as to why I was MIA for so long. College life, finals, etc. kind of took over my life, not to mention I had extreme writer's block for awhile. This is the longest I've ever spent updating a chapter. Seriously, three months is insane. I'm so sorry. Really, I am. Fortunately, I'm home for Christmas for a few more weeks, and I've been in a writing mood a lot. In fact, I already have the next chapter planned out. My goal is to have put the next two chapters up before I go back to school, and possibly have the a few other ones planned. Because, I really hate going so long without updating this story. _

_So, I hope you all stick with me through this. I promise, I will never abandon this story; it's too much fun to write. This story will be finished. You are all amazing. And I wish you all a wonderful Christmas and happy holidays! Speaking of the holidays, I have to go finish up Christmas shopping right now. _

_Thanks for reading and please feel free to leave a review (though, I've been a horrible updater, so I understand if you want to get back at me by ignoring the little blue button that says review.)_

_Merry Christmas!_

_And a HAPPY NEW YEAR!_

_--HeyLookTheSnitch_


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **_'Tis the season to be jolly, falalalala lala la la, 'Tis the season to give credit, falalalala lala la la, to J.K. Rowling because she's brainy, falala falala la la laaaa_

**A/N:** _AHHHH! Spazzing out, spazzing out. Woah. Seriously, you all just made my week so much better! My mom passed on her cold to me, and I've been feeling sick for the past two days. Dang, you guys. You blow my mind! lol Thank you so much to--drum roll, please--the following reviewers: whoever and whatever, Evilgal, Bittersweetness, A-Lady, babette-potter, Cherrykisses21, DanceDiva, LyLMystikeLf, coffee dessert, summersrain, -Jeisa-, Emily, LazyBoyGilmore, ellesra, Magical Singer Gal, cannotstopwriting, Violin Ghost, GoddessJ, xowelcomtomylifeox, Ariadne Evans, CarolineTurpentine, Kiley 1 09, soar2survive, the ketchup queen, Kitty East, bookworm2butterfly, Sprut, goosyjuicylucy, KatrinaEagle, tashville007, Riley S, cookiedoughYUM, tin-tin456, Lendielstar, rimma, Jessiquie, Vapid Philosophy, muddy worm, zozotheterrible, shetlandlace, Kikuchi, Tyem Marodyor, Tris-WannaBe, yeroandfae714, NeverAPrefect, Bellas-lullaby, Literati and naley forever, Emma Jean Jumping Bean, starcrossedvoyager, and SoManyObsessions. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!! I hope old Saint Nick (aka--Santa Claus, Father Christmas, big fat guy who wears red) gave you what you hoped for!_

_Well, I know a lot of you were upset about last chapter's cliffhanger (bwahaha--insert evil laugh here) so, in the spirit of the holidays, I sat down and produced this for you lot within a week! I feel quite proud of myself. :) Amazing props should be given to my beta who is ALIVE! YAY! She helps me a ton, so a wonderful big shout out to her!!! _

_So, without further boring ramblings from me, here's the next chapter!_

* * *

**Chapter 8: Footprint's Worth a Thousand Words**

"_A picture's worth a thousand words."  
_--A random quote that is way overused that everyone and their mother repeats

* * *

Alright.

Okay.

Breathe.

Potter was running his hand through his hair a bit distractedly, his hazel eyes wide and blank as they fixed themselves onto the letter held between us. While he was busy mussing up his unruly hair, I began to analyze the situation.

So, within ten seconds I had come up with this: Potter had my note—from Prongs, a Marauder, Potter's pranking enemy—in his school bag. Okay, so it wasn't much, but it just didn't make logical sense. Potter and his friends competed against the Marauders for their original fans; they envied them, or so I thought.

How did Potter get my letter? I didn't know. Why did he have it? I didn't know. If he was jealous of the Marauders, perhaps he nicked the envelope…but then that would mean that he would have to know who the Marauders were…

I felt blood pumping wildly at my throat, at my wrists, in my chest.

Potter's nervous laughter hit my ears, and my senses automatically heightened at the odd sound. My eyes shot to his face, which wasn't far from mine seeing as we were still kneeling on the ground with a piece of parchment connecting us. "Well, this is awkward," he said simply. His fingers released his hold on the letter and it seemed to almost snap back into me. Like we'd been holding a rubber band, stretching it out, one of us at each end. I clutched it tightly.

"I guess my job is done here—in a different way than was bargained for, I admit, but—"

What in the name of Godric Gryffindor's grandmother was he going on about? I simply stared, my brain reeling, my mouth gaping. In a fluid motion, he was up off of his knees and onto his feet, his bag thrown back onto his left shoulder once again. He stared down at me; I couldn't quite read the emotions flickering across his features, which was odd, because usually it wasn't that hard for me to read James Potter.

I scrambled to my feet, less gracefully than him, but at least I didn't fall over anything. "Potter…?" I asked, turning his name into a question, because that's all I could think of saying at the moment. Which, again, was odd, because there were a million things I could say to him at the moment.

For one, he stole my mail.

Two, he was acting as if it had been his duty to do so.

Three, he was so bloody calm about the whole ordeal while I was on the verge of sweating through my jumper.

"Evans," he mimicked.

That obnoxious tone of voice snapped my arms to my hips. "You still haven't answered my question."

I hated when he acted so cool; he took up his earlier position of leaning against the back of the couch, his feet crossed casually out in front of him. Smirking in that adorable way that I also hated, he put his hand to his temple, tapping it. "And which question would that be?"

The look that I often reserved for him broke out of me. The type of look that says "you're a complete idiot, and I know you're not that daft" which, now that I think about it, is a complete oxymoron within itself. His hazel eyes remained light and innocent, though I could've sworn that he was trying to buy time. Just by the way that he was being so annoying, playing the whole innocent act—that's something he would have done earlier in our teenage years just to bug me to death.

My patience running quite thin, I waved my letter up and down so that the emblem was facing Potter. "What," I emphasized, "are _you_ doing with my mail?"

His index finger touched his lips. "Secret."

Typical.

"Did you intercept the owl?"

He snorted. "Yeah, because I just love to spend my time bird watching."

"Did you sneak into my room and take it?"

The bloke actually had the nerve to roll his eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, Evans, but blokes like me can't get up into the girls' dormitory. Besides, you were late to class because you had gone to your room to check your mail—like I could have beaten you there."

Wait.

How'd he known that I had gone to my room? Wouldn't a natural assumption have been that I went to the owlery to retrieve my mail before class? I mean, if I had been expecting mail, how would I have known that the owl would deliver it to my room?

"…some of us actually like being on time to lessons."

"I never told you I went to my room," I pointed out sharply.

"You just asked me if I had snuck into your _room_—"

"But—"

He shrugged. "Lucky guess."

Yeah. Lucky guess my buttocks. He seemed to have a lot of those. "Do you watch me?"

Hey, it wasn't the first time that I had thought that. I had always thought he had a special gift at locating me, knowing where I was, showing up at the most random places whenever I was there.

"I'm not the one you should be worried about," he suggested, tapping his nose suggestively before crossing his arms.

It didn't go unnoticed how he effectively dodged my question. And I say effectively because I didn't return to the question; instead, I let it go. He had distracted me. "What are you on about, Potter?" I pulled the letter closer towards me, my chest rising and falling dramatically.

He waved his hand nonchalantly towards my chest, where the letter currently rested. "Your," he paused briefly, "_correspondent_ seems to have you wound up pretty well."

My brain froze. "How do you—"

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to tell you to stop—in fact, I'm impressed that you're even interested in a prankster at all. By all means, go for it, Evans."

What. The. Heck?

Potter knew.

Well, of course he knows, you dimwit. The seal says it all.

His last sentence replayed in my mind; the words reminded me of something. Like déjà vu. Something that had already been heard by me from him before—fifth year! Fifth year, when Potter found me writing my first response to Prongs. He had practically encouraged me to write back, just like he was doing now.

Was Potter in on this?

If so, was that how he had ended up with my letter?

But why would Potter—

"What are you saying?" I retorted slowly.

I watched with suspicious eyes as he pushed himself from the couch and approached me once again. Something about him seemed guarded, as if he had something he was trying to keep from me. However, a small, amused smile adorned his face. Merlin, this boy was a walking contradiction.

"I'm saying," he began, "that you shouldn't be blaming me for having your mail—it wasn't my idea, trust me."

And, oddly enough, at that precise moment, some type of feeling washed over me as I glanced at his eyes. A feeling that seemed to forge some type of thin line between our minds, like a rope that was being braided, being made stronger.

Beginning to be made unbreakable.

Trust.

My breath hitched in my throat.

"Whose idea?" I managed to get out.

"He bribed me, so, really, I couldn't let the opportunity pass…"

I swear, the boy was lucky that I didn't start shaking him violently. "Who's he?"

"And, you know that my mates aren't all that happy with me, so, naturally, I thought this would—"

He was making no sense, with fragmented thoughts, as if he didn't even quite know what he was saying. All I wanted was the truth, not some gibberish coming from the back of his thoughts.

Without thinking of the consequences, I reached out and placed my hand on his broad shoulder. He froze, his muscles tightening under my arm for a split second, before he released a deep breath. It was like he deflated, relaxing under my touch. Vaguely, I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, but my hand remained on Potter's warm shoulder.

"Potter," I said, "who gave you my letter?"

"He explains it all in the note, I think," he answered.

My heart jumped. "You mean, Prongs?"

A small grin lit up his face. Like he was sharing an inside joke with himself. "If that's his name, I suppose so."

Holy Hippogriff.

I needed some water. My throat was way too dry. "A Marauder gave you this?"

He was back into his calm and collected stance. "To give to you, yes."

It felt like my head exploded; excitement coursed through my body. Potter knew. Potter knew who Prongs was. He could tell me—he could—

Hold on.

"Why'd he reveal himself to _you_?" I asked. I was a little hurt, I admit. Trusting James Potter, over me? The girl whom he'd been writing to for the past two years.

"Pranksters like me, and your Prongs—" he smirked—"only trust other pranksters with our deepest secrets."

Funny.

Because that made no sense at all.

A bloke who liked to run around blowing up toilets would be the last person I would trust a secret with.

Then again, that's exactly what I was doing with Prongs, wasn't it? And now Potter seemed to be in on my biggest secret of all as well.

"Look," Potter began, "he approached me early this morning and told me his owl was out of commission for a while, and that he had a letter he had to give to someone. That someone ended up being you. I refused at first, naturally—"

"Naturally," I breathed.

"—but he offered me one of their plans for a prank if I promised to deliver this to you and keep his identity a secret. I had to take it."

Of all the people in the school…

And yet—

That thin line that I had felt being constructed between us earlier suddenly hardened, no longer wispy but strong. Perhaps Emmeline was right. Perhaps Potter was correct. Perhaps Potter and I did have some sort of connection…through Prongs.

Funny how things like that always seem to happen.

"Besides," Potter began again, "the prank plans could smooth things over between me, Sirius, Remus, and Peter."

I swallowed. It was like I had never really seen Potter before. I admit, it seemed a bit odd that he would agree to deliver notes from some guy to the girl that he himself fancied; yet, I strongly admired his will to choose fixing things with his friends over keeping me to himself.

It was sort of sweet.

"Well, thanks, I suppose," I said. I felt the letter in my hand, my fingers tracing the emblem. This was so…unexpected. So unlikely. I had always assumed that Prongs would deliver my letters via Harold. And now Potter had been thrown into the equation. Confusion was still prevalent in my thoughts as I mulled all of these recent developments over in my mind, but the excitement that Prongs _hadn't_ forgotten me and _had_ written me pushed all of the apprehension away.

Excitement, anxiety, appreciation and a new found trust for James Potter.

"Like I said," Potter stated, "he said he described it in the letter."

Nodding, I slipped the note into my other hand and readjusted my bag with my free one. I looked at his face quickly, one last time before I began to head up the stairs to my dorm, and suddenly I felt awkward. "Erm…" He was watching me with an amused look—he probably was finding my sudden discomfort funny. "Good night, then, Potter."

A blush colored my face, creeping up from my neck at the sight of his casual expression. I quickly turned towards the staircase, so that he wouldn't notice. What was wrong with me? Why did Potter, of all people, suddenly seem to have the ability to give me heat flashes? I was almost positive it had something to do with our relationship with Prongs connecting us both.

What a weird triangle.

"Happy reading, Evans," he shouted at me from the couch.

And I bolted for the stairs.

OOO

Once I had safely entered my dormitory without making a blushing fool out of myself, I leaned my back against the door, closing it with a quiet snap. For a while, I stood there, observing the letter in my hands while trying to make sense out of everything that had just happened. My breathing was deep as my eyes roamed over the familiar handwriting—_Lily—_and the four footprints.

It was then that I remembered that Prongs could have answered my question about his favorite animal, thus providing me with a possible clue as to one of the last remaining prints. As if on cue, my heart spluttered sporadically, sending my head into a dizzy state from the sudden swell of excitement.

And then the door was pushed open, knocking me in the back of the head.

"Bugger, ow!"

"Oh, Lily, are you alright?" Mary's voice asked hurriedly, rushing to me and peering at the back of my head, looking for any signs of blood, I imagine.

Through my pain, I saw Emmeline walk in next, her long brown hair up in a ponytail and her broom in hand. Mud splattered her robes and face. "What kind of question is that? You just swatted her in the head, you dolt," she said sarcastically, placing her broom on top of her trunk.

Well, thanks for being worried about my concussion, Em.

Mary was now waving her hands uselessly around my face, trying to figure out what she could do. Seriously, I was fine. I mean, I might not be able to remember my name come tomorrow, but honestly…just kidding. Mary just had a tendency to overreact. "I didn't see you—what were you doing at the door anyway—"

Wait a second. It was past curfew. What had _they_ been doing? My eyes roamed over Emmeline's messy robes and Mary's flushed face, a scarf around both of their necks. "Were you two outside? Riding brooms?" I asked.

My blonde haired friend waved her hands again, shooing off my accusations. "Well, Em was, and Will was practicing as well—"

"You two were outside after hours? Will as well?"

Emmeline snorted. "Five minutes, Lily. Besides, what's the fun in not breaking the rules when your best friend is Head Girl?"

I scowled, crossing my arms.

"Oh, it came!" Mary suddenly squealed, her chocolate eyes finally landing and locking on the letter in my hands, causing me to forget about berating my friends for their recklessness.

Emmeline looked at the two of us over her shoulder as she unstrapped her Quidditch gear. "Where's the little menace?" she asked.

Obviously, she was talking about Harold.

Mary bristled. "I think he's adorable."

"He bit me that one time!"

The corners of my mouth tipped upwards. "Potter bit you?" I asked, laughing inside of my head at the look on their faces.

My two friends were staring at me like I was crazy. For some reason, I felt exceedingly giddy. I suppose having Potter deliver a note to you can do that to a person. Especially if the letter is from a mysterious, kind, thoughtful student who happens to create havoc for the good of the school.

Ahem.

I shook my head slightly.

"What are you talking about, Lily?" Emmeline stated bluntly.

Grinning, I responded. "I mean, sure, Potter can be annoying sometimes, but isn't calling him a menace taking things a bit far?"

There was a brief silence. And then Mary's eyes went wide and Emmeline inhaled swiftly, sucking the gum she'd been chewing on down her throat. As Emmeline coughed and pounded her chest, Mary grabbed my shoulders.

"Potter had your letter?"

"Yep."

Emmeline coughed one last time, unclogging the gum from her esophagus, before saying, "Potter told you he's Prongs?"

"_No_," I exclaimed, holding up my hands. "No, no, no. He's just…the delivery boy."

"Oh," Em said, before going back to untying her shoelaces.

Of course she'd lose interest after finding out that Prongs was still unidentified. Mary, on the other hand, completed some weird spin movement, twirling across the floor, her pleated skirt flinging out around her waist. "This is just so romantic," she exclaimed, coming to a stop and nearly stumbling over Emmeline's discarded shoe. "A delivery boy…forbidden love…"

"It's not forbidden," I chided her.

She spun back towards me, her blonde hair falling softly around her face. "You so like him."

"Who, Potter?"

"No," she said, drawing out the word childishly, "Prongs."

"Oh, boy," Emmeline remarked, "here we go."

Mary sighed. "You are such a killjoy, Em. Live a little, please."

"Fine," Emmeline responded, grabbing her books, "I'll go live. I'll go downstairs and interact with real people. Now _there's _an idea.

With a curt nod to the both of us, Emmeline whisked out of the door, not even bothering to close it behind her. We heard her march down every stair, her feet hitting the landing roughly. Alright, _what _had just happened? She's usually not _that _touchy.

At least Mary and I seemed to be on the same brainwave. "What's got her wand in a knot?" she stated, crossing her legs politely as she sat on the edge of her bed.

All I could do was shake my head. "No idea. How long until she realizes that everyone's in bed?"

"Long enough," Mary said, slapping her hands together and then patting a spot beside her. "So, aren't you going to read it?"

Oh, right. The letter was somehow, miraculously, still crisp. The ink on the front hadn't even been smudged, which was odd because I had been clutching it tightly for quite some time now. The excitement had dulled a smidge—what, with Emmeline's outburst and everything—but the curiosity was still there.

Besides, as I began to slip my nail underneath the edge to open it, the anticipation spiked again, especially since Mary was practically bouncing up and down beside me. It was just hard to be depressed when my best friend was so enthusiastic.

The letter fell open.

_Dear Lily,_

_I'm sorry if you've been waiting for this letter for a while. Harold hurt his wing flying the other day, and I'm afraid he'll be resting for a while. Hopefully, James Potter got this letter to you, though. I assumed he would be a good choice—he's in your House, and he's also Head Boy—but, I swear, if this letter doesn't get to you, I will personally prank his arse off._

_On a different note, I hope seventh year is treating you well, and congratulations on getting the Head Girl badge. I hope Dumbledore doesn't put you through too much work though. By the way, schedule the next Hogsmeade trip soon. My mates and I have run out of pranking items, and Filch seems to be on to us (we have certain…other ways to get out of the castle). I guess having a relationship with the Head Girl has its perks. Just kidding. I'd write you even if you weren't the one with the power to schedule Hogsmeade visits. You're intriguing. And, for the record, I find the fact that you like black stallions…cute. Wow, that sounds gay, but seriously. The qualities you described them as also seem to fit you._

_As for my favorite animal, I'm going to have to say deer, hands down. My family lives near some woods, and when I was younger I used to love watching the deer bound across my lawn. And, as a secret between you and me, my Patronus happens to be a stag._

_In conclusion of this letter, I'd like for you to tell me about your family. Hm. That's not really a question is it? Alright. Let me try again. Lily, what's your family like?_

_Praying this letter gets into your hands,_

_Prongs_

He finds me intriguing.

I'm intriguing. Me, Lily Evans, the girl who has only ever had two boyfriends in her life. A boy finds me _intriguing_, and a darn sexy-sounding one at that. Not some random fifth year who looks like he hasn't showered in weeks, not some twelve year old that I've tutored with snot running down his nose.

But _Prongs._

The giddiness returned.

Meanwhile, Mary was peering at the emblem. "Lily," she said, "where's that animal book?"

I pulled myself out of my fanaticizing thoughts. "Huh?" I asked, not having had heard her.

"The footprint book."

Oh. That. "I think you had it last," I told her, still staring at the note while Mary jumped from the bed and began rummaging around in her trunk at the foot of her bed.

He used to watch deer.

He could produce a Patronus. That was some advance stuff. I had only learned that charm last year—but that meant that he must have already taken sixth year Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Holy chimera!

Prongs was a seventh year.

"Mary, he's in our grade," I called out excitedly, "he can do a Patronus! Only sixth years know how to do that, and last year we didn't learn until the end of the year."

She was smiling as she plopped the heavy book onto an empty space of mattress next to me. "That's not all, Lily. I think one of the prints might be a deer's."

I inhaled quickly. "What?"

We both grabbed the book, flipping it to the index. Finally finding it, we flipped towards the middle of the book, page 231, and found a picture of a female and male deer standing against a wooded backdrop. The print was on the page after it. Mary held up the letter next to the picture.

It was a match.

"We're so thick," I exclaimed in an amused fashion, "I mean, how did we _not _think of deer. What other kind of animal has that kind of hoof shape?"

"Is that all the emblem means? Each print represents their favorite animal?" Mary asked, pouting slightly at the apparently boring possibility.

I held up the letter, pointing my finger at the word 'Patronus'. "Or," I began, "they are the shapes of each of their Patronus. If that's the case, then a deer must be an outer reflection of Prongs' personality." Or so that's we I recalled from last year's interesting lesson on those silvery protectors.

We grinned at each other.

"Majestic," Mary pointed out, beginning to list off words that came to her mind when she thought of deer.

"Subtly powerful."

"Beautiful."

I giggled. "Does that mean his outside is attractive or his insides?"

Mary's eyes sparkled. "Let's say both."

"Fast?" I wondered, continuing our little game.

It was Mary's turn to laugh, a sneaky smile on her small face. "Yeah, maybe he's the kiss on a first date type of bloke."

I shoved her in the shoulder. "I didn't mean it like that!"

She winked at me, and then we were both giggling hysterically. My only guess was that the euphoria of figuring out the meaning behind the emblem had gone to our heads. Or maybe we were just going crazy. At least, maybe I was. It was normal behavior for Mary—extreme elation over boys. As for me, well, I had never been _this _animated.

"Were there any boys in our class that had a stag Patronus?" I asked Mary, trying to force my mind back to the two weeks last year we'd spent studying them. I could visualize the classroom, and the sliver mist that surrounded the room from twenty different people attempting to cast their Patronus. Mine had never taken a distinct shape—I could have sworn that I had seen four slender legs, but Patronus charms were complex. In fact, I think we were supposed to continue studying them this year…

"All I remember," Mary said, her eyebrows pinched together in thought, "was that Potter was the only one who had actually produced anything other than that silver fog—"

"—Yeah, but it disappeared too quickly for anyone to catch a glimpse of it," I pointed out, remembering how jealous I had been of Potter that particular day.

Hm. As far as both of us could recall, no one is our class had fully produced it. "Perhaps he was in a different period, then," I suggested.

Pity, really. Yet, if it was true that we were going to return to the study of the Patronus charm this year, then maybe I'd be luckier this time around.

"Hey, I could always ask David Mossly if he remembers anything from his class," Mary said excitedly.

Oh, David Mossly. The Hufflepuff with the turned up nose whom Mary had been convinced was her soul mate for three weeks in sixth year. Neither Emmeline nor I had understood what had drawn her to him; he just hadn't been Mary's usual type.

"Good idea," I told her. I was about to suggest that I could ask Severus, but that thought was quickly discarded even before it left my brain.

I couldn't believe that it was this hard to find four people, who were all in my grade—assuming that our Patronus idea was correct—and who could all produce a very powerful, difficult spell. It made me admire them all the more. Smart, cunning, driven to protect their secret—

Woah. Characteristics of a Slytherin?

No. Prongs was too kind. Not that kindness didn't exist in the Slytherin world, but I found it hard to believe that a Slytherin would single out a Muggle-born Gryffindor…unless it was to taunt her, or to undermine her value in Wizarding society.

Just in case, I should ask Prongs what house he's in when I write him back.

OOO

For some reason, I woke up early the next morning, the sun streaming in through the window across from my bed, the warmth beating against my closed eyelids. Rubbing my eyes, I stretched out my legs, cracking my back, before sitting up slowly. Glancing around, I saw Mary fast asleep in her bed, and Emmeline's bed made and empty.

I quickly dressed in my school uniform and put my school stuff together in my bag. Thirty minutes later I was outside of the Great Hall. A lone figure sat near the end of the Gryffindor table, and the long dark hair told me that it was Emmeline. I had fallen asleep before she had returned from the common room last night—which meant she must have gotten to bed pretty late. The guilt came as I got closer, seeing the dark circles under her eyes. Was this whole Prongs thing really driving her this crazy?

"'Morning, Em," I greeted, sitting down on the opposite side of her.

"Hey," she responded, setting down her spoon in her now empty cereal bowl.

Dang. She looked awful. She must have only gotten about four hours of sleep last night. "I'm sorry," I said quietly, watching her.

She appeared a little startled. "For what?"

I shrugged my shoulders. For some reason, apologizing made me feel uncomfortable. "Prongs, letters, everything."

Her heavy sigh made me feel worse. "I'm just worried about you—and when you and Mary gang up on me like that…"

Were we being horrible friends, Mary and I? Taking sides, creating a divide between us. I wondered if it really looked like that from her perspective.

Yes, yes it did.

The sad part was that I wouldn't be able to appease Emmeline. Prongs had become a part of me, and I knew that if it came down to it, I would never be able to fully ditch Prongs.

I was a horrible person.

"What if you find out who Prongs really is, and he isn't what you thought?" Emmeline suddenly asked me, her blue eyes dull and weary.

My mind spaced at her question, the disappointment in myself growing. To be honest, I had never really thought of that before. I stared at my friend as my brain tried to function properly again. "I dunno," I responded. I fumbled with the goblet in front of me. "Potter knows who he is—if he was so bad, Potter wouldn't…" I broke off. Potter wouldn't what? Let him near me? Merlin, was I really that self-centered? Thinking that Potter must care about me and watch out for me, just because he normally did? Or was I simply coming up with excuses to defend my fascination for the Marauder?

Merlin, I was addicted.

And it frightened me, because I couldn't, and didn't want to, stop

Emmeline was watching me closely, before she glanced around the Great Hall, as if she were looking for someone. "Lily," she began, her blue eyes on my face again, "what would you do if James turned out to be—"

I leant forward expectantly just as she shut her mouth abruptly. It was as if she had just realized that what she had been about to say was destructive. Her fingers massaged her eyes, and she inhaled deeply, slowly. "If Potter turned out to be what, Em?" I pushed.

Her gaze rested on the front doors, and I felt like she was far off. And then she looked back at me, her eyes serious. I couldn't help but stare back, feeling like she was falling out of control. It felt like she was trying to communicate something to me, something crucial. But then her face rearranged itself—the tense wrinkles in her forehead disappeared, and she appeared to be thinking off into space again.

Seriously, was my friend alright?

"Did you ever wonder why Prongs couldn't have used a school owl?" she finally asked thoughtfully, taking in my reaction.

Actually, I hadn't. I hadn't really thought about anything last night except for why Potter had my letter. After he'd explained, for some reason it had felt natural. Sort of like it was expected, like it happened every day of my life, like James Potter was _meant _to be involved in this.

I couldn't quite explain it; it was just something I knew. Explaining it to Emmeline, even Mary, was out of the question, because not only would I not be able to, but Mary would only further push for a romantic relationship between Potter and me.

When I failed to reply—and perhaps my blank expression had said it all—Emmeline clasped her hands together, her mouth open. "My point is this whole situation could easily blow up in your face. Prongs could be someone you can't stand, someone who you aren't expecting. Just…keep an open mind."

Keep an open mind? I nodded, though her words had caught me off guard. She hadn't told me to stop communicating with Prongs; in fact, she even seemed to now believe that Prongs was someone _real_, someone at this school, someone who I could possibly know.

What if Prongs was someone I knew? Someone that didn't match up with me in real life?

But Potter knew. Potter knew who Prongs was. And no matter how much I hated myself for thinking this, Potter would never allow some slimy, inconsiderate bloke weasel his way into my life. Even if Potter didn't hold some sort of a soft spot for me, I was convinced he would still have chivalry enough to not encourage it.

And let's face it. Prongs and Potter had been linked from the start. I wouldn't forget how it was Potter who actually got me to write to Prongs for that first time in fifth year.

Potter was now my human connection to Prongs. And perhaps that was faith enough to believe that Prongs was just as respectful as he seemed to be.

* * *

_Hope you guys enjoyed it! And I hope that his long chapter made up for the cliffie from the last one. :) Have a wonderful New Year!! Next time I'm back, it may be 2009! Wow, that's so exciting! And I'm really overusing these exclamation marks!_

_!!!!_

_!!!_

_Okay, that's enough. Oh, wait, I do have a question for you all. I got this random story idea the other day not Harry Potter related surprisingly. It's something original...next semester I'm taking a creative writing course, so I think I was thinking about that and then this idea just popped into my head during church today and I immediately started planning this out. Anyways, back to my question for you guys, I'm trying to come up with a good name for a girl, the main character. I want it to be something unique, yet not wierd, a name that sounds...timeless (if that's make any sense). Like a name that would never die out, I suppose is what I'm trying to get at. She's an American teenager, just a normal girl, but a bit eccentric (or I dunno if that's the right word...)So far, I've come up with a few, but I don't feel like I've found the perfect match. These are the few I've come up with: Jaiden, Myra, and Adalene. Bascially, if you have a name that you just absolutely love, let me know if you'd like...or if you like one of the ones I've listed, it would be really helpful if you could let me know! I know this is a weird request, but I'm totally stuck. I mean, I've actually searched multiplie baby-naming websites and everything! lol _

_Thanks for reading!_

_Happy New Year! Come on in 2009!_

_--HeyLookTheSnitch_


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** _I'm not cool enough to be Rowling._

**A/N:** _Seriously, you guys are ALL amazing. You continue to review even though I'm a horrible updater. If everyone were like you guys, this planet would be a better place! :) Thanks an infinite amount to: ColorificMarkers, -Lost In The Stars-, frecklemary, MissDreamy, xboredeasilyx, theessenceofmurtlap, saralynfara, FishPonysRock, Shubbimama, Katie, angelofmynightmare, sunstone-dono, Twilight Obsesser, ..x., oneiropulos, TheShatteredBeloved, -Jeisa-, Butterfly1989, goosyjuicylucy, LyLMystikeLf, twinklewind, Bittersweetness, Magical Singer Gal, starcrossedvoyager, jade91095, A-Lady, Kitty East, Bellas-lullaby, hasa, Kiley 1 09, Tyem Marodyor, obessed with books, queenphebee, prongs_lover, DanceDiva, xowelcometomylifeox, xshrimpyx, Ariadne Evans, MRQ16, Nature Dragon Vivi, Sheaori, grayx3eyedsoul, sarcasticrules, bookworm2butterfly, Sprut, NeverAPrefect, Riley S, Kiife, yeroandfae714, HollyRosalie, shetlandlace, cannotstopwriting, Jessiquie, Cherrykisses21, zozotheterrible, whoever&whatever, SoManyObsessions, ..., coffee dessert, tin-tin456, and preacherskid08._

_I know. Four months, and no updates. I'm terrible. I don't deserve to have readers like you. So, let's get straight to the next chapter. I'll leave a message at the end. _

_Enjoy this chapter! _

_Oh, here's a quick summary of last chapter: Lily caught James with Prongs' letter. Turns out that Harold (Prongs' owl) is injured and Prongs asked James to deliver the letter to Lily. Due to this, Lily feels somehow strangely connected to James. Later in her room, Lily and Mary read Prongs' letter and realize that the Marauder's symbol shows each of their patronuses. Prongs' is a stag. Meanwhile, Emmeline gets upset due to Lily's infatuation with Prongs and warns Lily that Prongs could end up being a person that Lily can't stand in real life. _

* * *

**Chapter 9—Oh My Harold**

"_It was the night things changed  
Can you see it now?  
These walls that they put up to hold us back  
fell down."_**  
**--Taylor Swift, Change

* * *

_Dear Prongs,_

_James Potter, huh? Odd choice, really. Now I feel like I owe him some kind of life debt or something. If I end up with antlers growing out my ears or some kind of crazy thing like that, I hope you know that it will be all of your fault…kidding…for the most part. I hope Harold gets better quickly. Perhaps you should take him to Professor Kettleburn for a checkup. _

_On a different note, I must say that I'm deeply impressed that you can produce a Patronus. I'm even more shocked that you didn't realize that by telling me that bit of information, I know now what year you're in: hello, fellow seventh year. You know, I'm surprised I haven't figured out who you are yet, especially since you're in my year; you must be in at least one of my lessons. Which leads me to my question of the day:_

_Which house are you in?_

_Seriously, it's not like telling me will give too much away. Besides, I can already easily narrow it down to two. Because, you can't be in Gryffindor, since the only four seventh years in my house are James Potter and his mates, who happen to be your rivals. I don't think you're a Slytherin, though I could be wrong. The seventh year Slytherins see me as nothing more than a dirty Muggle-born, and unless this is some cruel joke their playing on my part…_

_So, that leaves Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Come on, it seems hardly fair that you know who I am _and _what house I'm in, yet I don't know either. _

_As for my family—well, they're my family I suppose. My mum and dad are both Muggles; in fact, finding out that they had a Witch for a daughter threw them for a loop. They've been nothing but supportive. My sister is older than me; she's suspecting a proposal any day now from her _interesting_ boyfriend. He works with drills (a Muggle invention used to make holes in things for construction purposes). _

_Well, I better go begin the massive pile of work that's currently sitting at the bottom of my bed. _

_Hoping you good luck for your next prank (possibly a quick one?)_

_Lily_

OO

It was obvious by lunch time that a good prank could bring blokes back together. _Boys_. Potter and Black were happily directing each other's broccoli with their wands in a duel of mad vegetables. Remus was laughing while reading a textbook underneath the house table; Peter was clapping his hands and attempting to bewitch his own piece of cauliflower. What Potter had predicted the other night had turned out to be true—Prongs' prank plan was just the ingredient the boys had needed to fix their falling out. It was it they hadn't even been fighting in the first place.

"Do you think boys are born with immaturity, or does it develop over time due to too many Quaffles to the head?" I asked my friends.

"First of all, Bludgers are the balls that attack players, not Quaffles," Emmeline commented lightly.

"And second of all," a superior voice jumped in from the other side of the table, "I would take balls to the head any day rather than being a woman—girls are vindictive."

I clamped my hands into fists as Sirius's accusing glare landed on me. Right, so he may be back on best mate terms with Potter, but he still didn't trust me. Lovely. Though I'd never been friendly with Black, I'd never been on his bad side either and I couldn't deny that being on Sirius Black's bad side wasn't a very good place to reside.

"Go back to your food fight, Sirius," Mary commented.

Black glanced back down at the place where his and Potter's pieces of broccoli had been battling it out. "Aw, shit," Sirius said. Potter's vegetable had just pummeled and pinned Sirius' to the golden plate. "See? What'd I tell you? Vindictive, the lot of them. Distracted me from the fight—just like cousin Bella."

Potter chuckled, flashing a quick smile down my way. I purposefully went back to digging into my chicken pot pie so that he wouldn't see my blazing cheeks…and slight grin.

"Or maybe," Remus interrupted, "you just get distracted easily, Sirius."

"My thoughts exactly," Mary agreed, nodding at Remus who inclined his head.

"Bugger. They've pulled you in as well. First James, now you?" Sirius clapped Peter on the back. "Stay strong, Pete."

"Ridiculous," Emmeline muttered underneath her breath. "I'll meet you guys in class. I'm going to drop off my books in the dorm to lighten the load. Need anything?" she directed at Mary and me. We shook our heads.

"Vindictive and weak," Black said wisely as Em walked away, her dark hair bobbing along behind her.

"Speaking of weak," I began innocently, "was it bravery that kept your mouth shut until Emmeline left, or was it just a flash of miraculous intelligence?"

My chest swelled proudly as Potter hastily curbed his laughter into a coughing fit.

Ten minutes later, Mary had run off to enjoy a quick moment with Will before our next double lesson, and I was on my way, alone, down to the dungeons. I always thought the dungeons were slightly creepy—I feel like I could always hear water dropping eerily against the musty walls. Like a haunted castle from the medieval ages.

The creaking, talking suits of armor didn't help things either.

An unwilling grin swept across my face as the sound of heavy footprints pounded along the stone corridor behind me. Because, for some reason, I could now sense _his_ presence without seeing him…creepy. I blamed it on his recent connection with Prongs.

"Oi! Evans!"

The footsteps slowed into a peaceful rhythm as a boy with unruly black hair fell into step with me. "What do you want, Potter?" I asked, trying to keep the smile from growing. It took me by surprise when I felt the urge to take a deep breath; had I not been breathing? How odd…

"Ouch," Potter declared dramatically, ruffling his hair pointlessly, "must you assume that I want something just because I decided to walk with you?"

I laughed. "Terribly sorry. How very irrational of me."

There was a slight pause. It was a nice pause—hardly awkward at all. Which was odd in itself, because I usually didn't handle silences with blokes well; heck, it was even difficult for me when there _was_ a conversation going. Strangely enough, Potter seemed to have become my one exception in a miraculous time period of only a week. That had to be a record.

"So, can I borrow your Potions homework?"

That little—I turned and glared at him. He was staring back at me, a slight smirk making his bottom lip quiver, his hazel eyes wide with innocence. Yeah, if Potter ever pulled that face and people believed him then Dumbledore was the bleeding queen of England.

Then again, polyjuice potion could always suffice with getting that job done. Potter's voice snapped me out of my typical random thoughts.

"Only joking, Evans. If you're going to stay in contact with Prongs you need to learn to take a joke."

At that opportune moment, my bag—_accidently—_slipped down my arm to my wrist, swinging to the side and hitting Potter in the hip. He pulled a face at me (a face that over-exaggerated the pain that my bag must have really caused him) and retaliated by shoving me away from him softly. Somehow, the intimacy of this playful moment surpassed my awareness. I didn't even notice the small group of twelve year olds watching us with interest outside of the Flitwick's classroom.

"So," I began, re-shouldering my school bag and regaining my spot beside the Head Boy again, "speaking of jokes, you and Black seem to be back on your usual rule-breaking track."

He smiled, and I was instantly in awe—as I normally was when seeing the depth of their friendship—of how happy his mates made him. I always knew that Potter had to be a fierce friend (after all, if he had been willing to save his enemy Snape, then I expect he would go to any lengths to protect his best friends), but it was times like these that made me want to consider him as a friend as well. "Yeah," Potter said, "they realized that I was in the right—I'm insulted that they ever doubted me."

I rolled my eyes. "Or perhaps they only took you back in exchange for the prank."

Chuckling, he shrugged noncommittally. "Regardless, brothers have to forgive one another."

Brothers. Their relationship is sort of what I pictured Prongs' and his mates to be like. Friends having fun together, scheming, being boys. I grinned inwardly as Potter pulled to a stop beside the door to Slughorn's classroom.

"Hey, word in the castle is that you and your friends are the Marauders," I brought up.

Hey, it's not like I was the only one who was curious about the identities of the pranksters. Besides, it was a fair thought. After the prank that they had pulled at breakfast this morning, every student seemed to be spreading the rumor that Potter and Black were in on it. Potter and I were the only ones that knew the secret truth of the matter.

Potter's eyes lightened. And as cliché as it sounded, an extra spring seemed to pop up in his step. "Well, let's be honest, I _am_ cool enough." He twirled his wand expertly between his fingers as if to prove the point. Funny how that wasn't bugging me…perhaps I had grown accustomed to Potter's behavior and had learned to accept it.

"I am curious though, why now does the school start placing our names to those faceless convicts?" Potter asked.

"Well, your style was so clearly _them_ this time around," I answered. Of course, we—meaning us two—knew that the reason for that was because of the prank plans that Prongs had given to Potter in exchange for his delivery services.

"What do you mean?"

His tone was genuinely curious. "You and Black, you have a distinct _style_," I explained, feeling much like a Muggle interior designer, discussing paint chips and whatnot. "You two usually pull something to humiliate the Slytherins, juvenile but effective…no offense."

I glanced at him quickly to make sure he wasn't unhappy. A smirk—smirks were good in this type of situation. Potter held up his hands, palms facing me. "None taken. Though I'm flattered you pay so much attention to me."

My palms began to sweat as he winked at me casually. "All of you," I corrected quickly, drawing the boundaries. "Prongs as well," I added in a whisper, glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby. Surprisingly, the halls were fairly empty for a school day in the afternoon.

His hazel eyes twinkled mischievously. I did not like that look. Well, it did make him look undeniably good-looking, but it caused my stomach to flutter. "Of _course_," he agreed, though I would have bet that it was with some degree of sarcasm. "Speaking of Prongs, have you written him back yet?"

Jeez, nosy much? "It's only been two days, Potter." I wasn't _that _obsessive, right? Would it seem desperate if I admitted that I had the note back to Prongs in my bag? My face flushed faintly. Yeah, I should definitely keep that bit to myself, no matter how strong of a bond type thing that Potter and I had formed.

"Have you thought about how you're going to get the letter to him?"

"Er…"

Potter brought up a good point. I always had Harold to return my note to Prongs. But Harold was no more—wait, that made it sound like he had died. Nah, Prongs' owl was only out for a bit. For how long though? It could be days, weeks even, depending on how badly Harold was injured.

More and more people were beginning to gather outside of the Potions classroom that Potter and I had recently stopped near. Talking of the Marauders was now strictly prohibited. Potter and I stared at each other briefly before Black showed up with Remus.

"James, where have you been all of my life?" he called out, skirting around Hilda Thorne of Hufflepuff who gazed at Sirius' back wistfully.

Potter touched my shoulder shortly. "I'll see you later, Evans."

"Yeah," I said in a slightly removed way, my mind already busy on trying to devise a way to give Prongs my letter. I looked around for Em or Mary and was surprised to see Potter already in a conversation with Sirius. Wow, it seemed like I could only juggle one guy on my mind at a time—Prongs or Potter.

Thus, ultimately thanks to the Head Boy, the number one problem that tugged at my brain wasn't how I was going to plow through the pile of homework that was being neglected because of Head duties, but how in the world I was going to get my letter to Prongs. Two days later and I was still at a loss—Mary hadn't been much help. Will Boyson had successfully taken over my blond friend's life. The few times she hadn't been day dreaming, she'd suggested that I ask Emmeline. Emmeline, however, had become oddly good at changing the subject to my new 'budding' (as Mary referred to it as) relationship with Potter whenever Prongs or Patronuses were mentioned.

Yep, Mary liked the idea of a long triangle between Potter, Prongs, and me. Emmeline just held out for the hope that one day I would turn my attention to a not so mysterious bloke. Only problem was, I did _not _fancy Potter…

So, consequently, an hour into Potions on one rainy Monday morning, I had only conjured up a series of problems and no answers.

Since Prongs was so secretive, I doubted that I could use a school owl or borrow Mary's or Emmeline's—they wouldn't know where to find Prongs. My second thought then was to give my note to Potter (after having watched him and Black wordlessly fluctuate the flames underneath Snape's cauldron), but there were several things wrong with that idea. For one, Potter apparently fancied me, and how tactless would it be to give him a letter to give to another bloke? Though, to be honest, he seemed fine mentioning Prongs in conversation when speaking with me. Secondly, if he were fine with it, Potter could very well decide to read it _en route_ and that would be fairly embarrassing—well, I didn't think he would read it on _purpose_, but what if he dropped it and it fell open? Or worse, Black took it from Potter and _he _read it (which seemed much more likely, since Black appeared not to like me and all even after making up with his best mate).

"So, what are you going to do?" Mary asked me after the bell had rung. Black pushed his way by us without a backward glance.

A full two hours of cauldron lessons and I had only come up with one solution that might not even be a solution at all:

"The Owlery."

After much thought, the only logical thing to do seemed to be to go to the Owlery and hope that Harold was there. After all, if he was healed now, surely he would be recuperating up with the other owls. Of course, there were many gaps in that plan.

"Whatever you see as best, Lily," Emmeline commented, stuffing her Transfiguration book into her schoolbag. Em had seemed to have developed a detached view of my relationship with Prongs in the past couple of days. I couldn't say I wasn't grateful. Nonetheless, my stomach still grumbled with a smidge of guilt at her accusations from earlier that week—the accusations that Prongs could very well be someone that I disliked in person.

Checking to make sure the letter was still safely stowed away in the little pocket of my bag, I bid my two friends farewell and turned in the opposite direction.

Blimey. I hated the path up to the Owlery. It was like one long, never-ending, spiraling staircase up to the heavens, though I suppose Heaven wasn't full of owl droppings or the smell of wet farm. Fifteen minutes later, after the harsh climb that caused me to sweat through my jumper, the rank smell of stale crap hit me in the face like a rampaging dragon as I stepped through the already open door.

Most of the owls sat on their posts, their heads tucked underneath their wings. Some were whisking in and out through the open windows. A figure stood at the far end of the circular room, their back towards the door and to me.

Right. So. How does one go about looking for an owl? Call its name, perhaps? I'd never owned one before; could they understand their names when spoken to aloud? Then again, I suppose I could always just look—Harold was an extremely distinguishable owl; after all, he resembled a fluffy Snitch.

"You stupid bird," I heard the boy on the other side of the dirty room mutter.

I instantly froze in mid-step.

I knew that voice.

Spinning around to face him, I saw my fellow classmate fumbling with an owl that was hobbling on the spot eagerly, as if purposefully tricking its owner who was attempting to tie a package to its leg that appeared much too small for the baggage.

My heart stopped, the breath hitching in my throat painfully.

Good news—I had found Harold.

Bad news—so had Black.

"What," I demanded, taking a step forward as Sirius jumped slightly at my sudden appearance, "are you _doing_?"

In one fluid movement that was quite impressive (though I would never admit it to his face), Sirius pushed his hair out of his angular face and grabbed Harold up in his other hand. The little owl hooted at me dolefully, his tiny head just visible over Sirius's fist.

What was Black—and how did he—what was going on here? One thing was absolutely positive: Black was squeezing an owl that looked remarkably like Harold in his large palm.

Sirius's haughty gaze glared at me. "Experimenting," he said casually.

I kept my eyes on the poor animal in his hand. Play it cool, Lils, keep it calm. He may not know anything. It could be a fluke. "For what?" I asked wearily.

"To figure out the best spell to make this miserable creature grow."

My mind buzzed confusedly. "Why?"

"Well, I need to send a big package, see, and this one's too pathetic."

He was testing spells on pets that didn't _belong_ to him? And yet the irony that Black had singled out Harold of all the birds here—Black couldn't know who that owl really belonged to though, could he? Okay, so Potter knew who Prongs was, but from what I knew, he didn't know his _owl_. For the love of Merlin, why did these Gryffindor boys keep weaseling their way into my Marauder territory?

"Don't you have your own bird to torture?" I crossed my arms.

For a short second, Black stared at me pointedly without a trace of hostility. I looked back as defiantly as I could under the given situation. "This _is _my owl."

And my defiance crashed.

"Aunt Andromeda gave it to me for Christmas a few years back—thought it was _cute_." He sneered.

Hold the owl—

_What_?

There must be some sort of mistake. I mean, Harold possibly couldn't belong to Sirius Black; Harold was Prongs'. My heart was literally pounding against my chest as I attempted to take even, controlled breaths of rank oxygen. First Potter, now Black. What was going on with the world? Breathe, girl, get your lungs moving. Right, well, there was only one possible explanation: this owl might look like Harold, but it couldn't be. No way. Perhaps they were related. Brother birds.

Suddenly, Sirius gasped and swore, causing me to jump as well and to crunch the bones of what looked like a small mouse underneath my shoe. "Ouch. Blasted bird," Black barked darkly. The owl that looked like Harold hooted happily as Sirius dropped him in surprise; a small cut was bleeding on one of Sirius' knuckles. Harold-the-imposter hopped over towards me, hooted once, and then jumped into the air and onto my shoulder.

Black stared. I stiffened.

This owl _knew _me.

"Come here, Harold," Sirius hissed, reaching his hand out.

I stumbled backwards automatically.

"What did you just call him?"

Sirius Black could _not _be Prongs. Holy pile of owl crap.

He chose to ignore me. "Evans," he began, his dark eyes narrowed, "how does my owl _know _you?"

I glanced up at him, and he caught my gaze. For a split moment we stared at each other. It felt like I wasn't able to breathe…he was very handsome, though in an extremely royal, arrogant way. Dark, tall, slightly mysterious—ugh, no! Prongs? Sirius? Black? Yeah, I couldn't process those three names together, no way…

And yet, Harold was his bloody owl.

Could the reason that Black and Potter kept finding their way into my Marauder territory be because they _were _the Marauders?

Oh, holy Merlin.

As I watched—though my vision was slowly blacking out as I stopped breathing—something in his face changed, as if a clue to some great mystery he was trying to solve had just clicked into place. It looked as if something, or someone, had just slapped him across the face. His eyes twitched and narrowed, though, as usual, he looked remarkably cool.

"Bastard," he mumbled darkly, without taking his eyes from mine.

"E-excuse me?"

Prongs couldn't—Black wasn't—Prongs wouldn't use that type of language. No, no, and _no_! That would mean that…that the Marauders were rivals with…themselves? It felt like the room was spinning.

"Get out of my way, Evans. I have business to take care of."

Gaping and having no idea what to say because my brain seemed to have short-circuited, I watched as Sirius swept by me without so much as a backward glance, leaving behind a faint scent of musky cologne and an owl on my shoulder. I found myself unable to move. Adrenalin wasn't even coursing through my bloodstream like it normally would have been—I was too shocked to move, too numb to feel.

Harold nipped my ear affectionately.

My stomach leapt abruptly and heaved.

I needed the loo.

* * *

_IMPORTANT NOTICE--I lost the email address to my wonderful beta! ('Cus I'm just forgetfull like that...) If you're reading this, message me pleaseeeee...if you're still around, and if you're still interested. Honestly, don't feel pressured!_

_I know this chapter was short, and I don't think it was as well written as the others. I had an extremely hard time writing this chapter. It felt like nothing flowed...nothing came easily. Very frustrating. Regardless, I hope you all enjoyed it. Again, I'm horribly sorry for the long update. School is over in a few weeks, so I'll have a lot more time on my hands and hopefully a lot more creativity flowing through my brain. Oh, and thank you everyone for giving me name ideas for my story. I decided on Jaiden because I realized that it had already stuck to the character before I had asked all of you. _

_So, Harold is Sirius' owl. Tisk, tisk, what did James do now?_

_I plan on the next chapter being longer and hopefully more interesting. As for the length of this story--I'm not completely sure. Right now I'm just writing, and when all of my ideas for this story are written, then I suppose it will finish. So, consider the length of Penmanship Smitte TBA (to be announced, just in case some of you don't know...I only just figured out what the stood for a few weeks ago...go me!)_

_Thanks for staying with me through all of this guys! _

_Oh, oh, _ohhhh_! HAPPY EASTER!!!!!_

_--HeyLookTheSnitch_


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **_I took a class, in college, on Harry Potter. With that said, if I were JK Rowling, I probably would have been the professor, not the student._

**A/N:** _Oh, my Holy Merlin. Without all of you guys who read this story, this chapter would probably only still be half completed sitting in my saved documents folder. So, thanks an inifinite amount to: Vampires and Penguins, Pyromaniac-Girl, coffee dessert, Magical Singer Gal, A-Lady, kyo's-kitten256, Alice02, The3Magi, Katie, Smileydog, BumblebeesRock, Jess ..x, anon, thecanary, Sven's Pantihose, Tyem Marodyor, jasmineflower27, serenity12345, MissDreamy, Kiley 1 09, snipe-g, Magical words from Muggle pens, MegCabotRules, Kikuchi, xboredeasilyx, Kiara Avalon, angelofmynightmare, DanceDiva, Cherrykisses21, cutedoggy37, IdontwriteIread, starry34, Sprut, theessenceofmurtlap, Butterfly1989, goosyjuicylucy, cannotstopwriting, twinklewind, raneonthewyndoepain, Jedi Knight Revan, -Lost In The Stars-, blueholly, Bittersweetness, Lame Brain, grayx3eyedsoul, Kitty East, SoManyObsessions, XxSarcastic Heartless Angel xX, Sheaori, ..x., and Ariadne Evans. Seriously, all of you never fail to amaze me. Thank you fo reading, reviewing, adding me to your favorites, and just sending me messages that tell me to get my butt into gear and write. You are the best!_

_So, here's the next chapter. On the bright side, at least it wasn't a four month wait this time! On the down side, it was still too long of a wait. I'm sorry, but school is finally over, so I most definitely will have more time. I'll do my best to get back to regular updates every two weeks. Also, thanks to my amazing beta chattypandagurl for editing this chapter. :)_

_Without any other pointless ramblings from me, happy reading!_

_Quick recap: Lily went up to the Owlery to try to find Harold only to find that Harold really belongs to none other than Sirius Black. Dun, dun, dunnnnnnnn *insert creepy music here*_

* * *

**Chapter 10: Note to Self—Stay in School**

"_Once again life's thrown me a curve  
And it blew up right in my face  
Once again life's rattled my nerves  
Don't you see that I'm stuck in this place?"  
_--Relient K, Breakdown

* * *

So.

Harold belonged to—

No, I couldn't even think the name, let alone say it. To say it out loud would make it strangely final. And this could _not _be final. The rough bark of the tree felt nice against my back as I took controlled breaths of fresh air. It cleared my head, though my body felt numb. Dead even. Like it had been shocked a million times over in an electric chair. Needless to say, it wasn't the most pleasing experiences of my life. The foremost thought running through my brain kept doing circles around my mind.

_What the hell?_

My recent letter to Prongs (ugh—could I even call him Prongs anymore? Yes, yes I could. I would not tack Prongs' innocent name onto the end of a blackened one) was contained in my limp fist. The letter that I hadn't been able to send yet, even though Harold was safely back in the Owlery now. Actually, I had even scratched a few new notes onto pieces of parchment for Prongs a few hours after the dreadful Owlery scene. They read things like this: _Who in hell do you think you are? Did you think this was funny? Let me tell you something, Sirius Black, you are the most insensitive, revolting, gag-inducing prat that I have ever met._

Yeah, these had eventually been scrapped and tossed into the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room at one in the morning when no one else had been around. Because that was when I had stubbornly decided that I would not jump to conclusions.

Perhaps Black just had an owl that was coincidentally named Harold…and who looked exactly like the Harold that I knew.

Bugger.

I had even tried to convince myself that the Marauders couldn't possibly be the four seventh year Gryffindor boys. For one, Potter and Black were the main pranksters out of their group. There were four Marauders. Not to mention that if they _were _the Marauders, then they were rivals with themselves which was just plain idiotic.

Now, with the soft early October breeze nipping at my nose, my mind was coming up with a new type of logic. Well, I suppose it wasn't technically new since it had been the first thing I had come up with while in that God-forsaken owl dump with Black: The Marauders were in my house, in my year, in my _life _every bloody day. A few things began to add up.

For one, Sirius Black had a fluffy owl that he called Harold. Enough said, though it revolted me to think of it.

Second of all, Black and Potter had been in a fight. Though at first this one hadn't really made sense, now it sort of did. Well, actually, it really didn't. Because, this would mean that Sirius Black fancied me. But, for the sake of the argument, let's say Black was in love with me. Then of course he would have been upset with Potter for moving in on his territory.

Which brings me to my third point. Potter turning into the delivery boy. What if Black had given Potter the letter to give to me in order to put their friendship back together? Kind of like a test of bloke loyalty. After all, it was right after that that Black and Potter were best mates again.

But, of course, this was all taken into consideration on the basis that Black liked me. This, in all honesty, seemed to be a huge stretch, because Black had never shown any positive inclination towards me ever.

As the Giant Squid surfaced in the middle of the lake, one of his tentacles reaching up blindly, another startling thought came to me. Emmeline. Emmeline had tried to warn me. She had tried to warn me about a zillion times. Hadn't she said not too long ago that I should be careful? Hadn't she told me that Prongs could be someone that I didn't necessarily get along with? She had even been the leader of the futile attempt to get me together with Potter, because she would have known that Potter (this year at least) was a better candidate than the faceless Prongs. To Emmeline, however, Prongs wasn't faceless.

Emmeline knew.

It took a few seconds for my body to catch up with my brain processes, but when my limbs finally snapped out of their catatonic state I found myself jumping up to my feet. I was not going to give in so easily. As stubborn as ever, I was _not _going to succumb to these vague clues. But there were three people who could verify everything.

One of them was Emmeline. One of them was the haughty prankster himself. The last one was Potter.

As I stalked ahead I decided to track down Emmeline first, because if I could get Emmeline to talk, then I wouldn't have to confront Black until I knew the details. Then again, I would have given anything to throw a good hex at him right about now. However, I was determined not to lose my temper with him until I found out the truth. If he was actually genuine in this letters, well, I would have to think about that later. But if he had just done it for a laugh…well, he wouldn't be laughing for much longer.

Besides, Emmeline would be the easiest to find.

Being a Saturday afternoon, I assumed she would be in one of two places—the Quidditch pitch or the library. I figured she would either be catching up on homework (which is what I should have been doing) or taking a joyride on her broomstick (no need to state the obvious as to why)—I had known her since I was eleven, after all. For a brief second I hesitated to deliberate and then spun in the opposite direction and marched across the cool grass. Since I was already outside, the Quidditch stadium was going to be first on my incredibly pathetic list of interrogation points.

Sure enough—or perhaps after a long leave of absence luck had decided to show up on my side—a lone figure was circling the pitch right at the level of the golden hoops. Because I'm an idiot, I strode to the center of the pitch, on the ground of course, and began to wave my arms around my head like a complete loon. It wasn't until after the only thing I had accomplished was attracting the bewildered stares of a couple of crows that I remembered I held a wand in my pocket. Duh.

"Sonorous," I muttered. I could feel the volume rising in my throat, so I knew it had worked.

"Emmeline," I called out. The annoying birds from earlier took immediate flight. Serves them right, the way they were looking at me. Talk about your peeping Toms.

Obviously confused as to how my voice could be so loud, Emmeline first glanced around in the skies before turning her head down toward the ground. That's when I began to wave my arms like a lunatic again. She descended in tight circles, keeping her speed steady, before she hovered just a few feet from the ground and then jumped off, tugging her broom down with her. Though that wasn't completely necessary, Emmeline had always liked doing things the hard way.

"What are you doing?" She asked curiously, wisps of her dark hair falling out of her ponytail.

Oh, like she didn't know. Her blue eyes widened slightly at the glare I was sending her way.

"Harold's fixed."

We both flinched and clamped our hands over our ears as my voice bellowed across the grounds. Yeah, I had forgotten to take the spell off of my throat. Nice. I flicked my wand impatiently at my throat and nonverbally cast the counter-charm.

Emmeline was smirking a little. "What?"

I was too anxious to register her sarcasm. "Harold's no longer broken," I repeated, hoping she'd take the hint.

All she did was roll her eyes, and the smirk flickered from her face in annoyance. "You came all the way out here to tell me _that_?"

I ignored her. "Yeah, he was in the Owlery when I went up there."

Apparently, she wasn't catching on, but I refused to believe that she didn't know anything. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. "Okay…?"

Reaching into my bag, I pulled out my unsent letter and shoved it underneath my friend's face. "I couldn't send _this _because Harold was already in use."

That's when something clicked. I was watching her face closely, that's the only reason I didn't miss the understanding flash across her bright eyes. "Oh," she popped out, arranging her facial features into less surprised look. "Oh, Lily—"

"You knew, didn't you?"

She shrugged as if in a way that said 'It took you long enough'. "Well, yeah, but—"

I threw my hands up in the air, balling my hands into fists. I supposed instead of being completely devastated at this confirmation, my body was turning its anguish into frustration. Water was beginning to prick the back of my eyes. "And you didn't warn me?"

"I couldn't! He made me swear not too—"

My voice was beginning to rise despite the lack of the sonorous charm. I tried to lower my anger; I wasn't one for screaming and making a scene. Especially when there were people around who could potentially hear me discussing things that I ought not to know. "Oh, you swore?" I mocked, "Because of you, I almost went into a complete heart attack after finding out that Sirius bloody Black had an owl named Harold. Because of you, I've been pen-pals when Black for nearly two years…" My words tailed off.

Holy crap. I'd been sending my thoughts back and forth with Sirius Black. Oh, my dear Merlin.

The horror and anguish had finally caught up to me, and now my mouth simply hung open in an 'o' shape as my mind struggled to wrap itself around all of the facts being thrown at me. Emmeline's figure in front of me was beginning to blur around the edges as the water that had built up behind my eyes came forward.

"Wait…_What_?" My friend exclaimed in a voice louder than normal.

And then Emmeline began to laugh.

Not the hearty, ha-ha, type of way. But she was chuckling like I had just said the daftest thing she'd ever heard, and the sound made me want to hex her. "Lily," she said, grabbing my shoulders and staring at me. I was trying to glare at her through my tears. "Sirius isn't Prongs."

Something like relief desperately wanted to clutch onto her words, but I forced it back. Black _was _Prongs. It all fit. It all made sense. Bloody Harold was his bleeding owl.

"Don't try to defend your _darling_ friend," I snapped at her.

She crossed her arms across her chest tightly. "You're such a hypocrite," she shot back at me rather calmly. "If I'm not mistaken, you've been defending Prongs from the beginning."

My mind froze in retaliation. For the love of Godric—I _had _been defending Prongs. All I could manage to do for a second was gape at Emmeline, utterly disgusted with myself. Not only was Emmeline right, but she had basically just confirmed the truth. I had all I needed to know. Someone's face was going to pay. A split second later I was flinging myself back towards the castle, ignoring Emmeline's calls from behind me. I knew she could probably outrun me, but I had one advantage that she didn't. I was fueled with anger and adrenaline.

I was going to find Sirius Black and hex his arse off.

Unfortunately, anger wasn't enough to keep my adrenaline going, and as I hit the first set of stairs up into the castle, my legs nearly collapsed with exhaustion. A couple of fourth year Hufflepuffs glanced at me worriedly as they skirted around me. Well, I couldn't deny that it must look odd to see their Head Girl red-faced, tripping up the stairs, like she'd just seen a ghost—which, actually, wasn't all that odd, considering the fact that life at Hogwarts wasn't normal unless you woke up to the sight of Nearly Headless Nick floating through your wall at least once a week. But, whatever.

I was breathing heavily as I waited with my hands on my knees. Frustration rolled over me as I realized that I was no longer burning with vengeance. I had been planning on that for my confrontation with Black. Darn my short temper. I guess it went both ways. Quick to have a temper, quick to lose one. Now, I was beginning to think other thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. So far, I had only come up with and followed one conclusion: Black had made a fool out of me.

What if there was another conclusion? A different one?

What if Black had been genuine? He could be everything that I knew Prongs to be. Maybe his hard exterior was just a mask. The only thing I really knew about Black was that he came from a family who for generations had been sorted into Slytherin. Black hated the Dark Arts; he rebelled against his family. Despite his haughty ego, his heart had to be in the right place.

What if Black did secretly fancy me?

My heart skipped an uneven beat.

I had to admit it was a long shot. But the longer I sat there, the more I realized that there was no motivation for him to single me out and write to me only to take the Mickey out of me. What pleasure would he gain from that? Prongs had once told me that his friends wouldn't have approved if he had told me all of their secrets. I took that as his friends didn't really know that he was writing to me. So, if I still believed the stuff he wrote (which I _think _I did…I just found it hard not to) then why would he bother to bug me privately without anyone else knowing? Black wasn't that cruel. In fact, he had never bothered me personally ever. The only change had been this year, when Potter had started hanging out with me.

And of course that would anger him, if he fancied me too.

The slight breeze played through my hair. I wasn't quite sure _what _I was feeling; it was like someone had drugged me up with Novocain. Prongs had been a mystery for years. While I sat there trying to take stock of my emotions, something hit me. Hard. In the figurative sense, that is. I had never really thought about actually putting a face to Prongs. Of course I had asked him questions, but I had known in the back of my mind that he would never actually tell me the truth. The questions had simply been fun, a game, just to see if he ever _did_ answer them. Even after Potter had revealed to me that he knew who Prongs was, I had never felt any need to ask him who he was. I knew now, that I had been afraid. Afraid of meeting him for real and then having it ruin everything.

After all, romance and boys was not my cup of tea when swirled together.

But writing to Prongs had been safe. It felt real. Nothing was ever forced or fake. As I thought about it, it hit me that this wouldn't change. Prongs was going to be who he was. His letters were the core of him, and meeting him in person wouldn't change his true personality—if it had been genuine.

Perhaps I didn't have as strong a dislike towards hand-holding, or hugging, or whatever as much as I had thought. Maybe, the right bloke just hadn't come along yet.

I gulped down a huge breath of air before shakily getting to my feet. Alright. I needed to find Sirius Black.

Fortunately—for I had no idea where that bloke could possibly be on a Saturday afternoon—Black found me first. I had only made it past the Great Hall and up a flight of stairs when an arm jumped out from behind a tapestry and grabbed my wrist. The bodiless arm then proceeded to yank me backwards, and I would have screamed if I hadn't left my voice back in the hallway. To my surprise, I fell _through _the tapestry and found myself trapped between the stone wall of a small alcove and the body of a tall, handsome seventeen year old boy.

"Sirius," I gasped, staring up at him. His eyes widened slightly. I wanted to slap myself. Ugh. Sirius? When did I ever call him by his first name? I had _always _called him and Potter by their last names (I don't really remember why, but I think they had started it. Potter used to think it was cool to call people by their last names; it'd made him feel older than he was when he had been twelve).

He had dropped his hand from my wrist, but I noticed his other hand was stuffing a brown piece of parchment into the pocket of his pants. My eyes scanned his body quickly, curiously, and when I noticed how close we were to each other, my palms began to sweat. Well, it seemed like I hadn't completely gotten over my aversion to close contact with boys. I attempted to keep my heart beating regularly; I _knew _Sirius. I had written him since fifth year. My fingers twitched towards him slightly, as if they were eager to reach out and touch him, to verify the fact that he was real.

Oh, this was _not _good.

"Look, Evans," he began slowly, watching me wearily. It seemed as if he was trying to push himself into the wall that he was leaning against. "I'm not who you think I am." He said each word deliberately, as if he was afraid of giving something away.

I edged a little bit forward, wanting to see his face. He tried to scoot backwards, almost nervously. "Who is it that you're referring to exactly?" I asked quietly.

His eyes were even more mysterious in the dark, and I tried to stop my feet from inching towards him. It was as if my girl instincts were taking over. I hated it. It didn't feel _right._ And I had been sure that things would—no, should—feel right with Prongs. Things took time though. First dates were always awkward.

"Oh, I think you know," he responded with some dark amusement.

We stared at each other. Doubt was tugging at the roots of my brain muscles (or whatever made my brain function). My voice nearly shook when I opened my mouth. "What form does your patronus take?"

If he was put off by the question, he did well by not showing it. Nothing in his chiseled face changed, but I could have sworn his left eyebrow twitched a millimeter up his forehead. "I'm not completely sure." He paused, analyzing why I would possibly ask that question in the first place. "I've only ever been able to produce the mist."

It didn't sound like he was lying. I stumbled backwards a centimeter, watching him. I wasn't sure what was going on. Was I disappointed with his answer? Relieved? A little bit of both? It was impossible to figure out. All I knew was that, again, this didn't _feel _correct. "What about Harold?"

He grinned tightly. "Harold _is _mine."

"Then why would Prongs have used it?" I shot back. Nothing was adding up. Well, no, things were adding up, just not the way I had anticipated them to. According to Sirius, he was _not _Prongs.

"Because he's an idiot," he replied bluntly.

My mind felt like it was attached to a runaway broomstick that was caught in a hurricane. There was only one thing that I could think to say. "Sirius, do you _know _Prongs?"

"Unfortunately." His jaw was tight, and I got the distinct impression that he was not happy with a particular Marauder. Looking at him, it reminded me of the Owlery scene. And it now clicked that the person whom he had referred to as a 'bastard' was Prongs.

For a few seconds, neither of us said anything. "I won't say anything to anyone," I found myself saying into the silence. Sirius eyes poured into my own as his head snapped up to look at me.

"What are you talking about?"

I shrugged, because I didn't really know. I didn't know why I had said that. I didn't know why I felt the need to let Sirius know that. But I had. "I won't tell anyone about Harold, or you knowing them, or anything. "

He didn't say anything at first. His expression was reserved as he looked at me as if he were trying to search my face for any hint of dishonesty. Whatever he found there, it must have gained his approval. I tried to read my own face, attempting to see what he would see there. Finally, he smiled. And really grinned. Not in mockery, not in dark amusement, not in sarcasm. It was genuine.

"You'll do just fine, Lily Evans."

Though I wasn't quite sure what he meant by that, it was kind all the same. So, Sirius wasn't Prongs. And maybe I had been a bit quick to believe that, but I could tell it was true. However, there _was_ something going on here. Sirius and Potter kept popping up everywhere between me and the Marauders. But I no longer wanted to think of it. A pinch of disappointment made my stomach squirm at how close I had come to cracking this case, but the relief was stronger.

Sirius was a good bloke and all, but he wasn't for me. He wasn't Prongs. Perhaps it was a good thing that this clue had turned out to be cold. I wasn't sure if I was ready to face the unveiling of Prong's character.

OO

"Potter?" I asked, my voice echoing slightly off of the silent, stone corridor.

"You know, you can call me James," his deep voice responded.

Shivers ran pleasantly down my forearms. I smiled. How natural the word 'James' sounded in my head.

Once again, the two of us were patrolling the halls, in order to keep sleepwalkers at bay and put a stop to afterhours PDA. To be honest, patrols were probably the dullest part of being a Head Girl. Seriously, for two hours we had to search the castle for wrongdoers. Really, we hardly ever caught anybody, because if they were really rebellious enough to sneak out late with the risk of being dead tired for lessons the next morning, then I doubt they'd be strolling down the corridors where we could see them so easily.

Luckily for me, I had James Potter as an accomplice. He had continued to pleasantly please me. Conversations were effortless with him, and the silences were even easier. It was slightly unnerving how comfortable I had become with Potter within a month.

"James," I began again, biting back a grin. It was hard though, when James was right there next to me fighting to keep the smile off of his face. The smile won. "Did you know that Prongs' owl was Sirius's?"

As he glanced at me, he stopped beside me. With a sigh, he admitted, "Yeah. I did."

I mulled that over. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It hardly seemed relevant at the time, Evans."

For no explainable reason that I could come up with, my heart hitched excitedly. "You know," I mimicked him, "you're allowed to call me Lily."

We both were grinning now, and then I turned and began walking along the hall again. The more time I spent with him, the more it amazed me at how easy it was to be with him. He followed after me wordlessly, bouncing along beside me in no time at all. "So, you and Sirius both know them, then?"

"We're connected by a common goal, sure."

"And what goal would that be? Destroying the school?" I joked.

His hazel eyes twinkled. "Something like that, yeah." He chuckled quietly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his school robes. His laughter got louder. "I cannot believe you thought Sirius was Prongs."

I shoved him; after all, he was laughing at me. "His bird was Harold. What was I supposed to think?"

"Even so," James said, regaining his feet from his recent tumble, "Prongs is much too cool to be Sirius." Something in the tone of his voice made me feel as if he were enjoying some inside joke with himself. I grinned despite myself, feeding off of James's buoyant nature.

"Still, he could have just used his own owl."

James clicked his tongue disapprovingly on the roof of his mouth. "Think like a prankster, Lily—" a thrill ran through me at the sound of his voice saying my name—"If he had used his own, it would have been easier for you to figure out who he was. Imagine sitting at breakfast and seeing the owl swoop down on the guy."

"It seems like you know him well."

He glanced at me. "Great pranksters think alike."

"Of _course_," I agreed sarcastically.

Then again, I _had_ seen Harold with someone, but it had turned out to be the wrong somebody. Prongs must really like his secrecy to risk me confusing Sirius Black as him. And I still had the letter to send back to Prongs. Now that I knew that Sirius wouldn't be the one receiving my letter, I felt more comfortable sending it to him. But not comfortable enough to use Harold again. No way. Potter's warmth seemed to radiate off of him, and I found myself edging closer to him in this dark, empty castle.

Wow, I really _was _an idiot.

I grabbed his wrist to hold him back and he stumbled to a stop at my side. "James, I'm in idiot," I flat out told him, because I was.

He looked down at me in confusion. There was something there that almost even looked nervous. His hazel eyes were dark and intense now as they observed me slowly. "What are you talking about?"

Silently, I dropped his hand from my grasp and plunged it into my school bag, searching for that piece of parchment. When my fingers fumbled over the rough edge, I pulled it out. He had earned my trust. "Since pranksters think alike," I quoted him, "you'll know where to find him."

The bone in his jaw clenched as he looked down at the paper in my hand. His eyes scanned the name across the top of it, and then he held his hand out wordlessly for it. "I'll give it to him, no problem."

"Thanks," I breathed. "You're the best."

As soon as I said the words, I wanted to shove them back into my mouth and swallow them into the pits of my stomach where they would never come out again. Well, maybe nothing that drastic, but still. I was so tactless. James liked me, and here I was practically telling him to pass along love notes to some other guy and then professing my opinion of him in a highly positive way. But when I looked at him sheepishly, I found all of my thoughts turning to goo and pausing on my lips. His gaze was steady and thoughtful as we stood in the middle of a corridor somewhere on the fifth floor.

His hand made a slight movement, as if he were about to reach out and brush the tips of his fingers against my cheek. I was unable to move. To be honest, I don't think my feet would have moved a centimeter even if they had had the ability.

"Lily, I think I should tell you—"

And I knew what he was going to say. Of course, I knew what was going to come out of his mouth. I don't know how I knew, but I did. Freakishly enough—no matter how corny it sounds—his eyes said it all. Not to mention, the conversation we had just had sort of gave me the tip off as well. But I didn't want to hear it. Not yet.

"James, don't," I said, and it shocked me when I heard the whisper. Why was I whispering? There was no need to whisper. There was no one around! I attempted to clear my throat, but his stare was making me oddly breathless. "I don't need to know who Prongs is. For the moment, I'm fine _not_ knowing."

Tingles vibrated throughout my body as his hand took mine softly. I didn't pull away. It felt nice. Besides, he wasn't trying to do anything romantic. It felt like friendship. "Just let me know," he said.

Nodding, I squeezed his fingers, and then slid my hand out from his grasp. "I will."

OO

The days passed and things slowly fell back into their original places. James and Sirius were as inseparable as ever. The only thing new there was that Sirius actually seemed to like including me in their conversations now. In fact, he, Remus, and I were partners for a Potions assignment; I think Professor Slughorn just wanted to give Sirius a chance of passing by pairing him with two of the best people in the class who weren't named Severus Snape. Slughorn had learned the hard way that nothing good ever came out of Sirius and Severus being forced to work together.

Prongs was still a mystery. I still hadn't received a reply from him (although, in his defense, there hadn't been a prank), but I trusted with all of my heart that James had done his part.

Mary was still going steady with Will. They still weren't official, but Mary was planning on a boyfriend proposal any day now. Bless her. And Emmeline had even begun to help us try to figure out the Marauder's symbol again. It was an old pastime that still hadn't gotten old. We had figured out the stag's, the dog's, and even the rat's. There was only one left. The one that had had us completely stumped from the beginning.

It wasn't until a late Thursday afternoon a few weeks later that we got our answer.

Our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had decided to start us on the topic of werewolves. Of course, we had already learned about them a few years earlier, but every year a new teacher came in who always thought they could do a better job than their predecessor. The professor had his wand out and a large projection of a man who appeared to be halfway through the painful transformation was floating out of it.

Mary sighed wistfully from beside me, her angelic head in her hands as she stared at the magical hologram. "Werewolves are so romantic, don't you think?" she murmered.

I looked at her silently. "What?" She whispered back. "Imagine. A man torn between two choices. To follow his wolfish instincts or fight them to live a normal life."

"Erm…are you alright?"

She just nodded contentedly, her curls bouncing along on top of her head. "Probably a girl's involved."

I chose not to respond. It wasn't that I had a thing against werewolves or anything (besides, I'd never met one before), but Mary was just such a fairytale fanatic. She thought anything with a hint of danger was romantic. It was almost embarrassing. Sitting to the left of us, Remus and James were doodling on a piece of parchment—hangman by the looks of it—completely zoning out the lecture.

"One way of distinguishing a wolf from a werewolf is the shape of their paws," Professor Marley was saying as a new projection took the place of the old one. I looked at it half-heartedly, wondering why you would need to look at their paws in order to tell them apart. Not like it mattered anyways, because if you were close enough to either to make out the difference, you'd be dead before you knew the answer.

Half of the projection showed one print, the other half had a photo of the same print, just slightly elongated. More human than canine. As I looked at it, something was trying to drag itself to the surface of my memory. There was something familiar about that print.

Just then, Emmeline tossed a piece of paper back to us from her seat in the row in front of us. She was turned around in her chair, looking at us. I picked up the note. There were only two words. Two words that spiked my interest in the class subject immediately. Two words that caused Mary to drop her quill on the floor in surprise where it clattered to a stop next to Remus.

_Werewolf patronus_.

Thank you, Defense class.

This was what I went to school for.

* * *

_Uh oh. Looks like the fun is just about to begin! As for the length of this story, it shouldn't be that much longer. 4-5 chapters more, at the most. But then again, my numbers never seem to work out, so who knows! _

_I hope this chapter was worth the wait. For once, I actually liked what I had written, which really is a first as many of you might now by now. Thanks again for reading and reviewing! Now, I'm off to work!_

_Have a great day. For all of you about to finish the school year, good luck with finals. For those of you like me who are being lazy butts and doing nothing but sitting at home wondering what to do with all of your free time, have a good summer-filled week! _

_--HeyLookTheSnitch_


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** _You know, continuing to say that I'm not as brilliant as Rowling is really beginning to put a damper on my self-esteem…_

**A/N:** _Words cannot express how much I appreciate all of you who review, read, favorite me, or message me. The one word that comes to mind is…WOW. Seriously, you all are the best. Thanks a bunch to: Reyne, sunstone-dono, anaime7, Floaging, ponygurl022996, Bellas-lullaby, ILoveSirius,Siriusly, ParadiseDreams, Magical Singer Gal, Kiara Avalon, A-Lady, Butterfly1989, Sophstar, JACKlynn, angelofmynightmare, Katie, clap your hands say Claire, Tyem Marodyor, Jess-siriusly, mistpool32132, cannotstopwriting, xboredeasilyx, xboredeasilyx, janisthegiant, moony391, greenricecakes99, Jessiquie, SoManyObsessions, theessenceofmurtlap, Kitty East, DolphinDreamer24_7, taylorxangelina, Ariadne Evans, xExpectoxPatronumx, Jedi Knight Revan, thecanary, muddy worm, muddy worm, Miss-Anonymous, bookworm2butterfly, CluainnFhada, The Third Marauder, Pyromaniac-Girl, ..., Cherrykisses21, Vampires and Penguins, queenphebee, jasmineflower27, coffee dessert, DanceDiva, FalseImagination, and grayx3eyedsoul. Your reviews make my face look like this :D_

_So, it has been exactly one year and four days since I first started this story. Amazing. Congratulations to those of you who have been here from the date of June 17, 2008. Props to you who jumped onto this crazy train later and are still with me. Kudos to all of you._

_Well, this chapter is finally ready to make its debut. It's a long one, so pull up a chair, make yourself comfortable, get yourself a snack, and get ready for the adventure of a lifetime (alright, I'm exaggerating a little…but still. It really is a long chapter.)_

_Let's jump right into this thing, then. Sounds good?_

_Here's a quick recap from the last chapter—Lily found out that Emmeline knows who Prongs is, that Sirius is NOT Prongs, and that the last footprint on the Marauders' emblem is a…WEREWOLF! James also almost spilled the beans about Prongs' true identity, but Lily stopped him because she decided that she's not ready to know the truth yet._

* * *

**Chapter 11: Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?**

_"Grandmother, what big eyes you have!"  
"All the better to see with, my child."  
"Grandmother, what big teeth you have got!"  
"All the better to eat you up with, my dear." _  
--Little Red Riding Hood

* * *

_Dear Lily,_

_I have three main points to this letter. This first one being that I'm never going to let you live it down that you believed that Sirius Black was me. Secondly, families. And last but not least, the whole house-year thing that you've started._

_Seriously, Sirius? Ha. I've seen that mongrel in the library trying to do his homework; trust me, he looks as if he's suffering from an extreme brain malfunction. He even drools. Not an overall attractive sight. Although, I suppose it is my fault for using his miniature owl in the first place. However, in my defense, I couldn't very well use my own owl. That would have made it a hundred times easier for you to find me. Besides, Sirius and I have an interesting relationship. It was just too easy to use Harold. Nevertheless, if I didn't like you so much, I probably would have been extremely insulted by your conclusion. As long as you didn't flirt with him or anything…_

_As much as you seem interested in learning more about me, I'm more interested in you. What's your favorite color? (FYI: Mine's yellow)What was it like when you first discovered that you were a Witch? Did Dumbledore show up at your house? Wow, surprisingly, that's a very strange sight for me to imagine. Our headmaster in all of his purple-robed glory striding down a Muggle neighborhood. I would much rather talk to you about all of this in person, but this leads me to my third main point._

_Did you ever think that maybe I'm just an accelerated learner—an overachiever, one could say—and I learned that Patronus charm on my own? Who says I have to be a seventh year? And really, there's no way I'm going to tell you which house I'm in. That would most definitely give my identity away. It would be like stripping away my Invisibility Cloak in a hallway full of McGonagalls who desperately want to give me detentions. Not that I have an Invisibility Cloak, mind you. I will tell you that I am not a Slytherin, however. In all honesty, I would actually tell you exactly who I am…if I thought you were ready to know. Which I don't. Not yet, anyways._

_So, I guess that leaves me with just enough parchment left to ask you a question._

_Will you come to me when you figure it out?_

_Anxiously awaiting your reply,_

_Prongs_

OO

"We are the thickest people in the history of thick people," Mary babbled as Emmeline hurried over to us after class, her face dramatically stricken. That took me by surprise, seeing as I had no idea why figuring out the last footprint would send her into a panic attack. Knowing Em, it could be something else entirely that just coincided with the timing. Perhaps she'd just figured out that her favorite Quidditch team had lost a match.

Or, I thought to myself, maybe she actually was afraid of figuring out the last clue. Maybe she thought that cracking the last footprint was going remind me that I needed to question her for Prongs' identity. Ever since the confrontation we had a few weeks ago, she had been oddly hesitant around me. I think that she was afraid that I would start hounding her to tell me who Prongs really was. And, of course, she wouldn't tell me anyways, even if I _wanted _to know, seeing as she had apparently made him a promise.

"We're so thick," Mary repeated again, shaking her head back and forth in a disappointed fashion.

"I dunno, Mary," I began as we tried to lag behind the group of our classmates exiting the classroom, "it's not every day that we think about…well, that particular type of animal." I was very much aware that half of our year was standing around and capable of listening in on our conversation.

"Yeah," Emmeline said. "Werewolf prints aren't part of our day-to-day experiences."

I turned towards her, shushing her. "Do you _want _people to hear us?"

"Oh, honestly, Lily," she chided, pushing past me, "we just had a class on werewolves. We could easily be discussing our homework."

Well, now people who were close enough to listen would most definitely not think that we were discussing our essay topic.

She led the three of us out into the crowded hall. Students were ambling out of classrooms, making their way to wherever they planned on going next. Most of them were probably heading either outside—no one expected the mild weather to last for much longer seeing as November was only days away—or back to their respected common rooms; most classes were done for the day. As for me, I was planning on heading up to my dormitory to scrutinize the Marauders' emblem.

"But still," Mary brought up again, her high-pitched voice making me cringe. Really, didn't my two friends realize that they weren't the only ones with ears capable of hearing? "Werewolves are my favorite magical creature, besides Sphinxes, that is, but still! I should've realized…"

"Which makes you the pretty dumb one, doesn't it?" Em shot back.

Mary and I both looked at the dark-haired girl in surprise. Something was seriously eating this girl up from the inside. Mary's eyes were wide; mine were narrowed. "Okay, spit it out, Emmeline."

Suddenly glaring at us like we had seriously offended her, she huddled next to us and all but whispered vehemently, "The last symbol is a _werewolf._"

Well, thanks for that, Em. We had _no _idea. Really. "Emmeline," I began, choosing my words carefully and feeding off of my recent idea that she was afraid that I would start to question her about Prongs again, "you know, I really don't want to know _his _identity yet, right?"

While rolling her troubled eyes, she threw her hands up in exasperation. "Do you two even have a brain?"

Mary opened up her mouth to retort.

And then someone came up from behind us—so quietly that all I had heard was the rustle of their robes—and grabbed my upper arm in a grip that could put a Venomous Tentacula to shame. Their touch was icy, cold. I gasped loudly in surprise as I turned to see who my captor was. Severus Snape really did have the most awful timing.

"Come," he hissed, dragging me along backwards down the corridor. I was in too much shock to react at first. My old friend hadn't talked to me since—when?—two years ago? One year ago? Yeah, it had been sixth year, and he had warned me not to talk to James because he thought that he would _hurt _me; right, like he was one to talk. Besides, I didn't really have much choice in the matter. Well, I suppose I could have hexed him off of me, but he was holding my wand arm.

Then suddenly Emmeline was there, running up to Severus and shoving her hand into his hollow chest. "Where do you think _you_ are going?" she asked as Mary came to a halt beside her, clutching a stitch in her side.

A blush began to sweep across my cheekbones as I realized we were drawing quite an audience. "Don't worry, Vance," Severus spat as his dark eyes jumped from person to person who was gathering in the hallway. "I just want to talk to her."

Did I have no say in the matter? I tried to shake his hand off of me, but it was like trying to tear away a Niffler from a sparkly diamond. In other words, utterly impossible. That really bugged me. "Not now," I told him clearly, glaring straight into his empty face.

He looked right back at me. I swear, my heart dropped down to my toes. "It's about the toilets."

And his hand tightened back around my arm. I was sure I would have a bruise there tomorrow morning. Emmeline didn't like being spoken back to in such a condescending manner, and she looked about ready to shove her wand straight up Severus's nostril, magical spells all but forgotten. With one last warning glace which I hoped got across my point that I was only agreeing to this because of the subject matter, I looked back at my two friends.

"I'll meet you guys in the common room, okay?"

They looked at me like I was insane. Most likely, they were remembering the emotional breakdown I'd had after the OWL Defense test. Though I had put on a brave face, though I had not shown him how much he had hurt me, those few days after my decision to part ways with my best friend had been difficult. Two years later, my sadness had grown hard, into a stiff mask that not even the most complex revealing charm could strip away.

Before I knew it, Severus had shoved us both back into the now empty classroom we had just vacated. No, I guess shoved was too harsh of a word. It just felt like that because he was still cutting of the blood circulation to my wrist.

"What about James, Severus?" I asked right away, finally yanking my hand from his grasp.

The toilets had always been our code word for James and his friends. It had started near the end of first year. Sirius and James had already come up with Snivellus for Severus, and in retaliation, Severus and I had spent countless hours inventing a rude name to fit them. Thus, Potter had morphed into Potty, and eventually it just became Toilet—potty had seemed too trivial, too childish.

His jaw seemed to spasm at the mention of James's name, but then I realized it was more out of horror that I _hadn't_ called him by his surname. I tried to keep my stare steady—right now, with him, it didn't feel like too long ago that we had been making up that potential list of Potter-nasty names.

"Were you listening to Marley this afternoon?"

My eyebrows pinched together as I pondered the hidden meaning behind his question. At first, I began to hyperventilate. Had he heard me talking to Mary and Em after class? Did he know about the Marauders and me? But, then I recalled that he _already_—somehow—knew about that. And then it clicked.

The toilets…Professor Marley…

I shoved him away from me. "Ugh, not this again, Severus. I don't have time to listen to your Remus-werewolf theory. You're wasting your time—"

"I'm not talking about Lupin," he spat the name with almost as much venom as when he spoke of James. "Moony."

Moony? Was I supposed to understand his pointless ramblings? "Who are you—?" I trailed off at the supremely smug smirk that was misshaping his face.

"Oh. Has _darling_ Prongs not told you his other friends' names?"

It was right about at that moment that I was pretty sure I was going to faint. Or throw up. Or both. With a soft _whoosh_, the last of my breath escaped from my lips and my head began to spin. Even my vision was beginning to haze over, so that Severus's annoyingly superior stance was disappearing from right in front of me. Somehow I was able to snap my mouth shut, not wanting to give Severus the satisfaction of watching me lose my wits.

But how did he _know_?

I was hyperventilating again.

I threw all of my focus into getting my wits back together.

Within seconds I had begun to breathe again.

That was good.

And with the extra oxygen, the wheels in my brain started spinning once more. Which, thankfully, meant that my speech had slowly returned.

"How do you know this?" I asked desperately.

His dark eyes, so unlike James's warm, hazel ones, stared into my own as if he were trying to hypnotize me. It reminded me of the Legilimency rumors that were floating around in the Prophet—how You-Know-Who was suspected of being able to read minds or plant images in his victims' heads. It caused me to shiver.

"They're dangerous for you, Lily," he said quietly.

That's when I lost it again.

I wanted to scream in frustration.

"What are you saying?" I was beginning to shake, my hands held tightly at my side in fists. Some part of the back of my mind was scared that I was becoming hysterical. "One of them is a werewolf?"

When he just stared at me wordlessly, my knees turned into balls of wobbly rubber. No, _no_. Severus couldn't know anything—he—he— I scrambled for the door, nearly tripping over a forgotten text book that was lying on the floor. Note to self—find the stupid person who left it there and give them a detention.

If I had been in the right state of mind, I probably would have wondered what Severus thought James had to do with any of this. But it was pretty clear that I _wasn't _in my correct frame of mind, so instead, I continued to hurl myself towards the door.

I didn't dare turn around—Severus's proud smirk would surely have sent me into hysterics again.

_Wham_.

With the force of a charging Hippogriff, I ran smack dab into something very solid as I rounded the nearest corner at top speed. I screamed. Loudly. It even hurt my own ears. I half expected to find myself face to snarling face with a mad werewolf. Yeah, I was pretty shaken up. But whatever I had run into had arms, very human arms, because they quickly grabbed me around the waist as I tottered backwards from the impact. In fact, the person I had hit almost fell over with me.

"Lily?"

My heart was beating like a madwoman's. They were all there. Even Peter. Remus was still holding me, eyeing me carefully to assess if I had the ability to keep myself up on my own two feet. Whatever my face looked like, it must have looked bad, because I'm pretty sure all four of them were wondering whether or not to carry me to the Hospital Wing right then and there.

I tried to calm myself down.

I was being absolutely ridiculous. There might be a werewolf playing jokes around the school, and Severus knew just a little bit too much. My heart rate spiked again, so I ignored those thoughts for now. I didn't want to end up barricaded down with the overprotective school nurse.

James approached Remus and me, coming up to me and observing my face. "Are you okay?" he asked. "You look like you've just seen a vampire."

Close. Very close.

I wiggled out from Remus's embrace of sorts and brushed my hair out of my face, attempting to save my composure. "I'm fine. I'm—" With all of their eyes on me (there were like four pairs of them!), it was hard to think of something to say that would explain what had just happened. So, I did the only logical thing I could think of. I turned it around on them. "What are _you_ doing?" I asked in a voice that I hoped conveyed the correct amount of suspicion.

After all, they were up by our Defense classroom, though we'd just had that class. The corridor, for the most part, was utterly empty. For some reason, this didn't cause me to be as curious as it normally would have done.

"Nothing for you to worry about, Evans," said Sirius, though it looked like he was hiding something behind his back. Peter shot him a furtive look that instantly told me they were up to no good. And, for the first time ever, I completely blew that off. Trouble. Psh. I had too many of my own problems on my hands to worry about.

Like fraternizing with a werewolf. Or a friend of a werewolf.

I needed to go meet up with my friends. Perhaps they could ease my frantic thoughts about werewolves disguised as schoolboy pranksters. My forehead broke out in a cold sweat, and I felt the blood leave my cheeks. I took a deep breath.

"Are you sure you're alright?" James asked again.

"Yes," I answered breathlessly, repositioning my bag.

"Okay," Remus said somewhat sarcastically. No doubt, he was worried. Heck, I was worried for myself. "Because I'm pretty sure there were people in Greenland who _didn't_ hear your scream. Maybe," he clarified.

I stared at each of them, trying to calm my racing heart, before my eyes landed on James. His dark eyebrows were raised up on his forehead, and I could tell that he was about to insist on escorting me back to the common room. Right now, there were things that I needed to clear up with my two best friends. Besides, I didn't think I'd be able to explain my dilemma to James—it would only send me into hysterics again. Not to mention that my body had gained the extremely annoying consistency of sending my stomach into a joyful dance whenever James was near me alone. That surely wouldn't have helped my jacked up breathing.

"I'll see you later," I managed to say.

It was only after ascending the second staircase that it happened. Something outside in the grounds exploded in a flash of color that sent pools of purples, reds, and blues through the full-body length window that I had just passed. I stared at the reflections on the floor, dazed, and then suddenly, students were everywhere. Kids were flooding the halls, coming from their classrooms, the adjoining corridors. They were laughing in delight, craning around the people in front of them to see out the windows.

I quickly backtracked towards the window nearest to me before it became too crowded.

They were like fireworks, but less sparkly. Sort of like some master painter up in the heavens was directing a mega paintbrush across the sky. The pictures only stayed up for about three seconds, so I only caught vague glimpses of what looked like every teacher in the school dressed up as outrageous…_things_. A man with a long white beard—Dumbledore, I presumed—was depicted wearing yellow and black striped robes, with a set of antennas on his suddenly bald head. McGonagall was wearing a kilt with bagpipes.

Professor Marley had some brown, furry stuff drawn over his body, sharp teeth protruding from his foaming lips. My mind froze. He looked like a—I gulped down a ball of air—_wolf_.

About two minutes later, the pictures disappeared with a pop, only to be replaced by a shield separated into four even parts. The Marauders' symbol. For a while, I could do nothing but stare at the bottom left hand corner, where the wolf-like print was, while my classmates around me were cheering and clapping totally oblivious; the prank seemed to have brightened everybody's day.

Except for mine.

Before I knew it, I had turned and was running again.

OO

Emmeline and Mary appeared to be in a standoff. Each was standing on separate sides of the dormitory, and the tension was so thick that I highly doubted that they would have even flinched if a dragon had Apparated between them. Em's arms were on her hips in her typical 'I'm right, you're wrong' stance. Mary's arms were crossed delicately over her chest with her feet crossed in a way that made me wonder how she stayed upright. I made sure to close the door behind me, just in case some random girl wandered by. Though I shouldn't have worried; everyone that was in the common room was still staring out the windows, hoping that the recent giant art show would begin again.

As soon as the door snapped closed, Emmeline rounded on me. "Tell Mary that she is absolutely insane."

Oh, this was just what my over-fried brain needed.

"I am not!"

Emmeline rolled her eyes dramatically, and I wondered briefly whether or not they had even noticed the prank that had just taken place. "Yeah," she said, sarcasm literally falling from her lips, "because _normal _people usually find werewolves romantic."

"You're just closed-minded," Mary fought back, her face turning red from frustration. Obviously, they had been arguing for some time now, because it took a lot to force Mary onto the defensive.

"You are _so_ naïve."

Mary threw her hands up in the air. "At least I don't jump at the sound of a pencil drop."

I jumped in between them, thoroughly confused now. What had they discussed during the time period that I had been going mentally crazy? It was like both of them had overhead the conversation with Severus and now believed that one of the Marauders was a—

"Can someone please explain to me what is going on?" I asked, my voice loud enough that it stopped both of them in their comebacks to each other.

Em snorted. "One of them is a werewolf, Lily, and innocent Mary, here, thinks that is just _lovely_."

"She hasn't even let me _explain_—"

My held up hand effectively silenced her. I felt a bit faint. "Hold on. Since when do you two believe that the print describes what he is?"

Patronuses. That's what we had decided the Marauders' emblem depicted. For the love of Godric, Prongs had practically even told me that himself. _Oh_. This realization calmed me significantly; I hadn't really had time to think all of this through earlier. The panic had come first, ruling out all rational brain functions. Prongs had told me that his Patronus was a stag. One of the prints belonged to a stag.

Prongs couldn't _be_ a stag_. _Animals couldn't talk, or write, or send letters, or anything.

It all came down to the Patronus, not people who morphed into magical creatures.

One look at Emmeline's pitying expression formed a dab of doubt that began to manifest itself into the back my head. "A person's Patronus reveals what makes them _them_," she explained deliberately, holding back her annoyance, "their personality, their inner soul, you could even say. What would a werewolf Patronus say besides the fact that they are one?"

By far, Emmeline was one of the better students at Charms in our year. She was smart; it just came to her naturally. And hearing her jump into Professor-mode—as Mary and I called it—caused me to blink, and then process what she had just said. I didn't like it.

Could the symbol reveal something more about this Marauder—Moony, as Severus had called him. My head began to pound painfully. Prongs, Moony—_how the hell did Severus know_?

"Don't worry, Lily. I already told her that that's ridiculous—though it would be mysteriously sexy," Mary said, her mouth forming into a tight line as if daring Emmeline to object.

Instantaneously, I halted Emmeline, who looked about ready to leap across the room and shake some sense into the petit blond. Things were beginning to connect, my doubts, Emmeline's thoughts, the conversations I had had, all coming together to form a squiggly line. "Severus thought the same thing," I responded, watching Emmeline now.

Mary didn't like being ignored. She danced over to my side, looping her arm through mine. Emmeline's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of my ex-friend's name. "Even that leech has better sense than Mary."

At my side, Mary tensed. "Stop," I told each of them before things heated up again, glaring, "both of you." If things continued the way they were, Emmeline would most definitely end up throwing something out the window. No doubt.

With a deep breath, Mary relaxed instantly. "Is that what he wanted, then?"

"His name is Moony." My tongue fumbled over the foreign word curiously.

"Whose?" Mary asked.

For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to say the word that my brain was trying to process. I looked at Emmeline helplessly. "The werewolf's," she said simply for me. Even though she sounded calm—or as calm as she could, at the moment—a strong touch of hysteria could still be detected. For now, I ignored it. Better she was trying to control herself than taking her anger out on inanimate objects.

"He even knew Prongs' name; he seemed to know everything—that I've been writing to him, _everything_."

First Emmeline, now Severus. Even James and Sirius. Really, next thing I knew, Mary was going to begin to jump around saying that she even helped Prongs compose the letters. It didn't really bother me that they knew and I didn't. After all, I had already decided that not knowing was better than knowing for me right now. No, what bothered me was the fact that it must be painfully obvious who it was; was I being a complete dimwit? I'd never thought I was unobservant before.

And, now, taking into account Severus and Emmeline's perspective, not only was I being unobservant about who Prongs was, but I had also failed to notice a…_werewolf _running around the school for the past seven years. My breaths came quick and shallow.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when Emmeline's voice broke the silence. "I knew—_knew_—that this was a bad idea."

Mary couldn't help herself. "And, yet, you have been going along with it for a while now, with the footprints and everything."

Oh, great. Here we go again. "Only because I thought that maybe—by some miracle—it would help Lily figure out the truth without me having to break the promise." I couldn't help but be a little offended at her subtle jibe. Emmeline had lost it. Again.

And it couldn't have been at the _wrong_ time. I had forgotten—until now, that is—that we hadn't told Mary that Emmeline had known all along who Prongs really was. Well, I knew that _I_ hadn't told her. I hadn't done it on purpose or anything; it just had slipped my mind. Become irrelevant. I did not care that Emmeline knew, so I hadn't dwelled on it. But from the shocked look on Mary's face, I knew instantly that Emmeline hadn't let it slip either.

"You know?" she asked, her brown eyes wide.

Emmeline waved off the guilt that Mary was trying to force upon her. "Yes, and I thought figuring out the prints would help. But not only is Lily's mind too straight-forward, now I've just learned that—that…" she broke off.

Small drops of sweat were beginning to break out across her forehead, right underneath her hair line. She snapped her mouth shut, flicking her gaze around the room. With shock, I realized that Emmeline was _nervous_. Emmeline never got nervous. She was always the player who stalked on ahead, jumped onto her broomstick, and kicked everyone else into gear.

Mary's arm was still clutching my hand. Apparently, she had put the dots together, the same as I had. "That means you must know who the werewolf is then."

She didn't say anything. With a swift turn, she spun her back to us and crossed her arms tightly, glaring out the window as if it had just charmed her hair green. Mary and I glanced at each other. While I was beginning to freak out again, Mary stood at total ease. I was beginning to join sides with Em. For the love of Merlin, there was a werewolf who roamed our school every month!

My fear had me reaching out for Mary automatically when she pulled away from. For some reason, I felt extremely alone when her arm fell out of mine. "Emmeline," she said slowly, taking a step towards her, "werewolves can't be all bad."

Okay, but to have one in a school…where slip ups could _easily _be made…

It was then that Emmeline faced us again, her eyes tortured as she bit on her bottom lip. "You know the werewolves fight with You-Know-Who. My parents…I've heard them discussing things. Some Aurors in their division have even been _bitten_, Mary."

I shivered violently.

Mary stood her ground. "You can't judge an entire group. If Dumbledore let this person in, he must know, and it must be safe."

A sense of surprise rolled through me as I watched Mary. She wasn't normally the voice of reason within our group. But now—well—she _was_ right. It was like Muggle-born prejudice all over again. I, personally, had never met a werewolf. Who was I to say who was allowed into school and who wasn't? It wasn't their fault they had been bitten; they hadn't chosen to be one. I began to clutch onto that hope, clutch onto Mary and her sometimes wild, but accurate conclusions.

"It's dangerous," Emmeline responded. And when Mary opened her mouth to retort, she continued, "If you're going to say something about some romance novel you read about werewolves, you can forget it."

With that, Mary straightened up, her small hands balling into even smaller fists. "I think the real problem is that you've just figured out that someone you know has turned out to be someone other than you thought. It's caught you by surprise, and that's your worst fear."

I realized that I was holding my breath, waiting for the explosion. Instead, what I got was complete and utter silence. Emmeline continued to stare at Mary stiffly, her arms straight at her side. Without another word, she marched past both of us and out the door. Neither of us really knew what to do then. My mind was running circles. Mary walked over to her bed, and flopped onto her stomach, staring at me accusingly.

She must have noticed my lack of surprise to the discovery that Emmeline knew who Prongs was.

Suddenly, I had a strong desire to leave as well.

"I'll be back," I muttered, and before she could call me back to lay it into me, I was gone. The staircase was dark, so once it opened up into the brightly lit main room, it took a while for my eyes to adjust. When they did, I began to make out the few people scattered across the common room, working on essays or just listening to the radio. One person caught my attention.

"James?"

He glanced up towards the girl's staircase and grinned, waving at me. It was a bit surprising, seeing him there by himself, because now that he and his friends had reconciled their relationship, they were nearly inseparable. And, _Merlin_, since when did his grin become so irresistible? I couldn't help but smile a little back at him before walking over to the fireplace. Despite all of the drama, he had somehow eased my muscles that I hadn't known had been tight in the first place.

And then I remembered that the last time he had seen me was after my panic attack. I approached him wearily, wondering what he would say now. No doubt, he had just witnessed Emmeline storming out of the portrait hole. He must know that something was up. There were many things that James Potter was, but unobservant wasn't one of them.

"Is everything alright?" he asked on cue, scooting his ensemble of papers over to clear a space for me on the sofa. It had begun to make my heart accelerate whenever he did polite, thoughtful things like that. It bugged me even more now, because I had a lot more things to be worrying about than the reactions that he caused my body to go through.

So, I told myself that I simply had no other choice but to go sit next to him. My stomach seemed to leap as I took the spot. "Boy drama," I murmured, resting my back against the arm of the sofa and pulling my knees up to my chest. I glanced at him.

His hazel eyes glinted nearly gold from the flickering flames. Merlin, I hated that. "Does this have anything to do with your conversation with Snape?"

I looked at him in surprise, wrapping my arms around my legs. "How do you—"

"Know?" he finished for me, smiling. "He came by us nearly a minute after you had left. Seemed pretty pleased about something, as a matter of fact."

"Yeah, well," I paused, shifting my gaze from him to the burning fire. The warmth felt nice. "He does know how to rile me up."

"Git," he said darkly, before shooting an apologetic look my way that I caught from the corner of my eye. "Sorry, I know you were friends with him."

I shrugged, and as he turned back to whatever he had been doing before I had interrupted him, I found myself watching him. Dutifully, his mop of messy hair was bent over as his quill brushed across the papers in front of him. The line of his jaw seemed to tighten as he thought about something, and every now and then he'd suck on the end of his writing utensil as he re-read what he'd just written. It was sort of fascinating. And as I settled my back into a more comfortable position against the armrest of the couch, something weird happened. An overwhelming feeling washed over me, as if I had known this bloke all of my life. Well, technically, I had, but it was as if I had known him as more than just Potter the obnoxious git.

It took me half of a second to realize that he was watching me too.

I felt the heat rushing up from my neck to my face, but I didn't _feel _embarrassed. My mind was comfortable. We stared at each other. At that moment, I was hit with another emotion. Trust.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again. His concerned expression then shifted into a cute smirk. "You did scream bloody murder earlier."

I thought of Emmeline—who was probably long gone by now, somewhere up in the skies, taking her frustration out in the form of loops and dives—and Mary, who was probably looking in every book she owned for stories on werewolves. Lastly, I thought of James. The boy who had recently become a confidante, a safe harbor. Someone who knew my secret with Prongs; he was even a part of the whole ordeal. Unlike my two best friends, James seemed to be indifferent towards the Marauder. He was neither here nor there when it came to his relationship with him.

He was neutral.

Most importantly, he knewProngs.

Suddenly, it seemed absurd that earlier I had felt that I couldn't talk to James about this.

"James," I said softly, my chin resting on my knees, "can I ask you a question?"

He scooted forward slightly and sat up a little straighter. "Sure."

"What do you know of…werewolves?"

It was clear that that was _not _what he had been expecting. His body snapped backwards slightly, his spine growing taught, his jaw clamping shut. It seemed somewhat personal. Curiously, I observed him. Within a few seconds, he had recovered. "Marley left things to be desired, eh?"

Again, I shrugged.

His eyes began to glow passionately; it drew me in. "They're victims, Lily. Victims of monsters like Fenrir Greyback, who enjoy killing just for the thrill."

Goosebumps raised along my arms, causing the tiny hairs there to stand up. "But what makes them like that? Why are some…killers?"

He inched towards me, as if he wanted desperately to make sure that I understood his view. That was no problem; his eyes already held my attention effortlessly. "What makes some people into Death Eaters?" he retorted.

I dropped my arms from my legs, and it made me feel a bit vulnerable. But, right then, I could have cared less. Because, suddenly, the thought of vulnerability as a weakness seemed utterly impossible. With James, everything just felt…like they were supposed to. I found myself moving towards him as well. Everything made sense now, somehow. All of my anxiety, my worries, disappeared. So what if one of the Marauders was a werewolf? Werewolf or not, everyone had a choice—to do the right thing, or the wrong.

I had chosen the wrong path when I had instantly jumped into a prejudiced fear of people who had been turned into something without their consent.

"Werewolves are people, Lily," James said smoothly. It sounded like he was still trying to convince me. I was way past that. Did he not know that? The curiosity that shone on my face now had nothing to do with werewolves, but with him. He had developed a power I hadn't known he had; he was a boy, and he made me feel safe.

My fingers reached for his hand. Unlike my time with Sirius, when I still believed him to be Prongs, this girl instinct of mine for physical contact felt natural. I held it back at the last moment, more afraid of what he would think. "Thank you," I said sincerely instead.

His grin caused me to smile. It amazed me how he could go from being so serious and passionate, to being light-hearted and friendly once again. "You still haven't told me what's wrong with you," he accused lightly.

Something about him made me feel like I could tell him anything. Perhaps it was the warmth that seemed to ooze from every inch of him, or the casual ease that he radiated when interacting with me. So, what did I do? I told him.

"Severus told me that Moony—he's a Marauder—is a werewolf."

Instantly, his once rich, golden-hinted eyes turned dark. I was immediately aware that I had said the wrong thing. I sat up a bit straighter. The bones in his face were becoming more and more dominant as his muscles puckered angrily. I could also tell that he now understood my earlier questions. Instinctively, I touched the tips of his fingers with mine. His eyes snapped to my face.

"And what do you think about that?" he asked stiffly, like he was holding back some emotion.

My eyes were glued to his face, amazed by his fierce reaction. "At first, I was frightened—" I swear I could see him flinch. I chose my words carefully and truthfully—"but, after speaking with you, it doesn't bother me."

He grabbed my hand, his expression loosening. "Well," he began, his breaths were deep and hot on my face when he exhaled, "I'm glad."

With his free hand, he fumbled for something in one of the pockets of his robes. Right now, I was too preoccupied with him to care. I tried _not _to think about why he seemed to be taking this whole Moony-werewolf discovery personally. Instead, I concentrated on his even breaths, and the way his air blew across my cheeks. But, then he was holding out a folded up note to me, and when my eyes glanced away from his face for a brief millisecond, they landed on the emblem.

I reached out for it automatically. Surprisingly, I had completely forgotten about the prank, and the fact that pranks from the Marauders meant a letter from Prongs. "That was some prank, huh?" James commented then, smiling again.

Whereas before I was too busy to be curious as to what he was looking for in his pocket, now I was too focused on the letter to notice that James had dropped my hand. I flipped the piece of parchment over, and my heart leapt when I saw my name scrawled on the front in the familiar, somewhat messy, script.

"You're better than any owl, James," I told him happily. I felt oddly buoyant. What, with my conversation with James (and his natural ability just to make me feel light) and with Prongs' latest letter in my hand, everything seemed to be right in Hogwarts again.

I caught the amused grin that clipped the corners of his mouth upwards. "Well, that's good to know, because if I were an owl, I'd have absolutely no chance of going to Hogsmeade with you next weekend."

At that, my eyes snapped back up to his level. It felt like my ribcage was taking a beating from my heart. He was watching me intently, but the easy smile was still apparent. I swallowed noisily, and it confused me that the reason I was so nervous was because—if he was asking what I thought he was asking—my answer was strangely easy to come up with.

"Hogsmeade?" I asked dumbly, still trying to get my voice to come up around the anxious lump that seemed to have lodged itself into my throat.

He rolled his eyes playfully. "Lily, don't tell me you've forgotten. First trip of the year, and we were even the ones who chose the date!"

"Oh," was all I was able to say. Part of me wanted to slap myself.

"So," he continued casually, "I think the least we can do is go together, since we planned it and all."

Though my answer had already been formed in my head, I hadn't expected it to be so easy to vocalize. I hadn't really gone out with anyone since my tragic fifth year failed relationships. With that said, I shocked myself greatly when I nearly shouted, "Yes."

James looked taken aback as well; however it didn't take long for his pleasure to override his surprise. I nearly giggled—me. Giggling. Over a boy. I hadn't realized just how comfortable I had become with James Potter, until then. I began to worry just a little bit. Was this a date? Or just two friends spending the day in the village? It worried me even more when my thoughts leaned pleasantly towards the former.

But my worries weren't enough to stop me from grinning as well.

I didn't think James knew exactly what to say. This was a first. For the both of us. So, neither of us really said anything. It wasn't awkward either. Finally, James turned back to his papers that I know identified as our Potions assignment for the week. "Cool," was all he said, but his hazel eyes flickered sideways to mine, and I caught the joy there.

"Cool," I echoed. Already, my blood seemed to be pulsing with excitement.

That's when I remembered the letter that was still clasped in my sweating palms. A whole other type of excitement raged up inside of me. It was like I had two separate boxes within my system that held my emotions for two different people—James and Prongs.

Stumbling to my feet, I looked at James one last time. "I'll—uh—see you later, then."

His eyes jumped from his homework, to the note in my hand, to my face. "Goodnight, Lily."

From the look of his expression, it looked like he wanted to get up, dance, and shake his bum as well.

* * *

_Oh la la. James and Lily sitting in a tree—wait!—Prongs and Lily sitting in a tree—WAIT!—I'm confused. This is going to get interesting…mwahaha! I hope you all enjoyed that chapter! I had a lot of fun writing it._

_Okay, so here's the bad news. I don't know when I'll have the next chance to write and put up the next chapter. I'm leaving on a vacation with my family for two weeks, and who knows what's going to happen…lol. I'll try my hardest to get it up as quickly as I can though. Scouts honor (though, I never really was a girl scout, but you get the picture)_

_Until then, here's a little poll to keep things a little interesting. Alright. Are you ready for this? Are you sure? Okay. You better hold onto your seats. Here's the question: Do you think that Lily and James will share a kiss in the next chapter? Text A for HECK YES!, text B for Don't make me laugh (aka—no way in hell), text C for They better otherwise I'm going to shoot the author._

_:)_

_Have a great week!_

_--HeyLookTheSnitch_


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **_I wish James Potter belonged to me. _

**A/N:** _Being the horrible updater that I am, I'm always super surprised to see that people still read this story! You guys are the epitome of awesome. Go on, go look awesome up in the dictionary and you'll find your names under the definition. Thank you so much to: James' Girl Lily, FallingForFootie, Alex507, the. same. shizz., leDaph, xlillyx, random smilie, RainingRain, Jessiquie, jessicats, Butterfly1989, coffee dessert, twilight-freak7, angelofmynightmare, xExpectoxPatronumx, snipe-g, Adosia, A-Lady, Your Little Rebel, Kiara Avalon, huggaholic, ficrdr, beyondtheveil6, CluainnFhada, drumer girl, theessenceofmurtlap, ellesra, jasmineflower27, clap your hands say Claire, Ali Keys, hannaBananas17, Pyromaniac-Girl, cannotstopwriting, EdwardsLily, Riley S, bookworm2butterfly, DanceDiva, XxSarcastic Heartless Angel xX, Bellas-lullaby, anaime7, Vampires and Penguins, Katie, xboredeasilyx, Lucykevinfan, thecanary, Magical Singer Gal, Ariadne, Holycow923, Cherrykisses21, Jedi Knight Revan, irimma, kyo's-kitten256, grayx3eyedsoul, Jess-siriusly, Kitty East, Whowillcatchyou, SoManyObsessions, ParadiseDreams, moony391, SpiderLily, noideagirl, and garnetgirl14. Your reviews make me so happy. And thank you to everyone who reads, and adds me to their alerts. It means a lot! :)_

_EDIT-- I reposted this chapter, because my lovely beta sent me the edited version! WOOT WOOT! Thank you, thank you, thank you! :) _

_So, it's lucky chapter 13! I'm so sorry for the horribly long time it took for me to get this chapter up. I just wanted it to be perfect, because I guess you could call this chapter the climax of the story. I've also been extremely busy with work and trying to get all the papers I need for school done (I'm studying overseas this coming fall, and there's so much stuff that I have to get done before I'm allowed into the country. It's insane! But I'm super excited!) _

_I'm a bit hesitant to post this chapter actually, because it hasn't been edited yet by my beta. I'm so set on wanting this chapter to be perfect, but since it's been nearly two months since my last update, I wanted to put this up. I hope it reaches your expectations. :/ Ah, I'm nervous!_

_Anyways, have fun reading!!_

**Recap:** After finding out that the last print on the emblem is a werewolf's, Lily ran into Snape, who dropped the Moony bomb on her and told her that one of the Marauders was a werewolf. Emmeline and Mary had a fight; Mary found a werewolf to be romantic, Emmeline found Mary to be incredibly stupid. James was the only one able to put Lily's mind at ease. He then asked her out to Hogsmeade and gave her Prongs' latest letter. Let the games begin.

* * *

**Chapter 12: A Shot of Hog's Mead**

"_It's that moment when  
You start closing in  
First you're holding back  
Then surrendering_

_It can start a fire  
Light up the sky  
Such a simple thing  
Do you wanna try?"__  
_--Keith Urban, Kiss a Girl

* * *

_Dear I'm-Going-To-Prongs-You-In-The-Arse,_

_Please tell me you aren't doing anything stupid. Wait. I can answer that. You're an idiot. Consider yourself lucky that Red is already suspicious from the times she's caught us communicating; otherwise I'd be beating you upside the head with Jimmy Whelt's beater's bat. Because you're a reckless, irresponsible idiot._

_Is your friend safe?_

_If I'm right—which I usually am—you'll know what I'm talking about. _

_Hoping you sleep with your eyes open because I can't make any guarantees that I won't smack you with my own wand,_

_Your Seeker_

OO

"Come on, Em."

"No."

"Just _one_ hint."

"Drop it, Mary."

The underlying tension that still remained from the whole werewolf catastrophe caused Emmeline's words to come out sharper than she had intended them to, I'm sure. But either Mary wasn't aware of the thin wire she was balancing on with Em, or she just assumed that Em had gotten over it. Which wasn't that off of a thought since the three of us had learned, over the years, that we were physically and emotionally unable to stay mad at each other for long. When you live with your friends, it's difficult to stay angry with them. Talk about an awkward living situation if we weren't able to forgive each other quickly.

Still, Emmeline was slightly raw from the evening before. Which usually meant that you better not try to push her buttons or she'd come out swinging her wand at your face.

"Just one _teensy_ little hint," Mary begged again, holding up her thumb and index finger a mere millimeter apart from each other.

From the look of Emmeline's white knuckles clutching her quill, I'd say Mary was essentially _asking_ for a hex. Not to mention Mary was adding salt to the wound by bugging Emmeline about Prongs, which was what had been eating at Emmeline in the first place.

Smart move, in the most sarcastic way I can think of.

"Just one little clue," Mary continued to plead.

"Okay. Here's one for you," Emmeline declared, shoving the library book she had been looking through shut. She shoved it away with just a little bit too much force, revealing the Quidditch magazine that she'd really been reading. Mary leaned in from across the table, her hair brushing my arm.

"Bugger off," Emmeline said.

There was a silence, and I hoped Mary would take Em's advice and just let it go. For one, I didn't want to have to jump in and play peace keeper again. Secondly, I didn't think Emmeline would take too kindly to the fact that I had turned on her and now thought werewolves were simply human beings with a disease. A disease that morphed them into giant dogs—predator dogs—wolves. Same thing, really. All part of the canine family.

Her slim eyebrows pinched together, Mary puckered her lips thoughtfully. Of course, I should have known my blond friend better than that than to think she'd actually give it up. "So, is that his catch phrase or something?"

Really? No. _Really_?

Emmeline shook her head and grabbed her magazine again, pretending to immerse herself back into its pages of the Harpies' new Seeker. I was trying to stay out of this, really, I was, but Transfiguration homework had never been that attention-grabbing and it was definitely never enough to drown out Mary's voice. Especially when she used her pleading, high pitched yet slightly charming voice.

"Why won't you tell me?"

Without looking up from the text, Emmeline took a deep breath. "Lily doesn't want to know."

That _was _true. Not trying to figure out all of Prongs' clues had sort of become my own personal defense mechanism. In this case, not thinking too much was a good thing. After all, I didn't want to go through another Sirius. I shivered involuntarily.

Mary turned to me, her eyes wide. "Go away, Lily."

_Well_. Often times I wondered what I did in my past life to be privileged with such nice, supportive friends. "Hey!" I exclaimed, kicking the leg of Mary's chair, which did nothing but cause my toe to throb.

"All's fair in love and war." Mary shrugged her tiny shoulders, smiling innocently.

Emmeline snorted, tossing her book to the side of the table again. "That doesn't even make sense, considering the only war we're in is with You-Know-Who, and that bastard can't possibly have a heart."

I glanced up from my homework. "It's an expression, Em," I explained patiently.

"It's a joke, Lily," Emmeline retaliated. Was it just me, or was she mocking me?

"Please!" Mary sang again, clasping her hands together out in front of her.

In a quick movement that had been perfected by training to catch a Snitch, Emmeline grabbed her parchment, scrunched it up, and chucked it across the table. It hit Mary squarely on the forehead. "If you continue on like this, I'm not going to Hogsmeade with you."

"I'm going with Will."

With a relieved sigh, Em turned to me, ignoring Mary's huff of annoyance that her friend would give up on her so easily. She had probably hoped that Emmeline would have begged for her to come with her to the village. "Looks like it's me and you then, Lily," she said expectantly while Mary pretended notto pout.

Yep. Rightio. My affirmation was right on the tip of my tongue when—

Wait.

_Uh oh. _

Though something seemed to drop from my stomach at her completely wrong assumption, it was kind of scary how easily my next words came out. Almost as if they had just tumbled right out of my mouth without any regard to my intelligent brain or my frantically beating pulse. I felt myself shake my head. "No. I-I'm going with James."

Yeah. Very blasé. Like I'd been saying that all my life.

Hold the owl.

What had just come out of my mouth?

Most importantly, why had I chosen the moment to reveal my Hogsmeade plans in the _library_ of all places? The library was the number one place for eavesdroppers. Well, I suppose everyone would know soon enough when they saw the two of us together. But still. And Emmeline had even been trying to push me in James' directions for months now. Oh, the embarrassment. I hoped she had the decency to not gloat. Or at least understand enough not to be angry with me for ditching them last minute.

Great. Now, to top it all off, I felt guilty.

It only took a quick second for my blood to rush from my toes to my neck.

I'm an idiot. An idiot with awful timing and sluggish mind processes.

I tried to stop the blush from spreading to my cheeks as I peeked out from behind my textbook to look at the expressions on my friends' faces. For the first time in a while, Emmeline actually mimicked Mary's struck dumb look. Both of them sat in their seats, staring at me as if they'd never seen me before in their lives. Or as if I'd just suggested that there was no such thing as magic.

Emmeline was the first to get her wits back together. "I'm sorry," she half-laughed, shaking her head as if she needed to clear her thoughts. She turned to Mary. "But I thought I just heard Lily say that she had a date with James."

"Potter?" Mary added.

They both turned to stare at me again.

Have I mentioned that I'm an idiot?

It was hard to try to act cool underneath their curious stares. Pulling myself together, I slowly lowered my book and attempted to smile in a way that I hoped would convey the point that this Hogsmeade trip was no big deal. My heart leapt. Well, I mean, of course it was a big deal, but _really…_

"How many people named James do we know?" I asked weakly, a pathetic excuse at coming off as nonchalant. One second I was blabbing quite calmly that I had an outing with James, the next I was blushing like an overexcited twelve year-old girl. I had issues.

Mary swung towards me, her chair scraping against the floor. "Well, there's that fourth year, James Locksley. There's also James McCallison; Jamie Gharden—"

"Well, there goes my plan for next weekend," Emmeline declared, speaking over Mary and picking up her quill once again.

For the moment, I ignored Mary as well, who was caught up with the act of ticking off all of the Jameses in the castle on her fingers. I stared at Emmeline, my eyes wide.

"That's all you have to say?"

She glanced up at me. "What? Do you want me to throw you a party?"

No, actually, I thought she would have shoved it in my face. Ha, like I was going to say _that_ out loud. I was shocked—and slightly afraid—that part of me was upset with the reactions (or lack thereof) that I was receiving. From the looks on their faces, I had expected something, well, more. Mary was still babbling about James Somebody-or-Another, while Emmeline was underlining a piece of text in her Transfiguration book. Come on! This was a huge step forward. Especially for Emmeline! I had finally shown interest in a real live boy. One that I actually _knew _in _bodily _form.

"_Silencio_ yourself, Mary," Em finally said.

Surprisingly, Mary stopped, or, I should say, stopped acting like a typical blond that's always the punch line of jokes. "So, we _are_ talking about James Potter here?"

Emmeline gave her an incredulous look. I was pretty sure I was giving her the stink-eye. And yet, this was what I wanted, wasn't it? For them to act like it was no big deal. Because it wasn't. Yeah, I wasn't even sure if this was a _date_. Nothing earth-shattering about it, really.

Except that I had said yes.

But other than that—_no_—nothing surprising about any of this _at all_.

"I'm happy for you, Lils," Emmeline said, and I looked up at her just in time to see her shoot a warning glance across the table. "Don't," she then shot at Mary whose face was glowing. "You'll just scare her."

Scare me? Mary grabbed my elbow, supposedly ignoring whatever Emmeline had just tried to convey. There was a fire in her heart-shaped face that was hard to ignore. "I'm sorry, Lily, but can I freak out on you for just a second?"

Oh, the Mary-scare, as we called it. As in, when Mary went all squirrely girlie, over-excited because of a possible romantic situation. Any other time, I would have forbidden this, but— I tried to keep the smile from my face. Instead, I pretended to glance at my wristwatch and muttered a quiet, "Go."

Typically, she squealed while Emmeline rolled her eyes. "Tell me everything. How'd it happen? What are you going to wear? Go casual, but cute. Or—"

I held up my palm. "And, the second's up."

All three of us jumped in our seats (Em's book even went flying off the little round table), as a deeply amused voice came up from behind us. I often wondered if those boys had super swift and silent skills. "May I suggest dressing seductively and sexy?"

"Merlin, Sirius," Emmeline breathed, throwing her quill at his chest. "Don't scare her away like Mary just did."

Remus popped up from behind Sirius, his dark blond hair falling around his face. "Hello, girls," he greeted, clapping Sirius on the shoulder, "and, don't worry, I'll keep him in line."

There was something a little bit wild in Emmeline's face when her eyes snapped to Remus's. Almost as if she'd just waltzed around a corner and had come face to face with a snarling dragon. Her glance flickered immediately away, like she was afraid to stay focused on one thing for more than two seconds. Well, it _was _Emmeline. She always found something to get worked up about, but it had never been about Remus Lupin. In fact, he was one of the safest boys in our year. Safe was Emmeline's favorite word besides the Seeking Quidditch word Snitch.

"Hey, Remus," Mary said, tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear and flashing a small smile. My vague thoughts about Mary's flirtatious nature were interrupted by Emmeline who was already packing up her books into her bag. A number of things began to run around in my brain.

One—why were Sirius and Remus here? I mean, it _was_ the library.

Two—Did Sirius really just advise me to wear something sexy? I quickly did a mental check of my current wardrobe. Yeah. Nothing.

Three—What in the name of Merlin was up with Emmeline?

I glanced from Emmeline, who had already swung her school bag across her shoulder, to the slight boy standing behind me. Something that I thought was hurt flashed through Remus's light eyes as Em walked around the table, skirting awkwardly by him. "I have to go," she muttered.

"Where're you going?" Mary asked.

"She's just intimidated by my presence," Sirius smirked before Em could even respond. Though, quite honestly, I had doubts that she even would have, since she was still darting her gaze around as if she was attempting to find the quickest escape route.

"Only in my nightmares," was the last thing she said before walking towards the door with a slightly hesitant and confused stride. Remus watched her all the way out. Mary simply shrugged and crossed her legs in her chair.

"So, Evans," Sirius said casually, trailing his hand along the back of my chair until it stopped on the far right edge. Of course, he would act as if nothing _weird_ had just happened. I eyed his fingers nervously (I still hadn't gotten over the fact that I had actually tried to _flirt_ with him), before looking at him and then to Remus, who was standing on my other side and who looked normal once again. "Word of the Prophet says you've got a date with James," Sirius finished.

All thoughts of Em's odd behavior flew from my worries as I tried not to sound unsettled. Come on. Where was my usual tone-of-annoyance I reserved for these boys? Too many random things had just happened. I shook my head. "The prophet also claims that dragons can make good pets. You can't believe everything the paper tells you."

Remus snorted with laughter. Sirius promptly whacked his friend on the back of the head. "You haven't been on one in a while, Evans, but when a bloke asks you to go somewhere with him—"

"—alone," Remus butted in.

"Yes, alone. Thank you, Remus."

"My pleasure."

My neck was getting pretty tired from having to whip around back and forth to each of them. I narrowed my eyes, and spun around in my chair so I could face them both. "Is there a point to this, besides showing off your best-mateship?"

Sirius swept his hand from the back of my chair to push back his hair. "When do I ever _not _have a point, dear Evans?"

Merlin, that boy could be so cocky. How I _ever _had possibly thought, even for a second, that he was Prongs was beyond me. "Well, then, give it to me."

"The point being that James asked you out and you two have a date," Sirius clarified like I was an incredibly dippy little girl.

A slight buzzing sound filled my ears. Before I could really gain control over the butterflies dancing around in my stomach, Remus and Sirius had moved into a position directly in front of me, so that my view of the bookshelves was obstructed with the sight of their school sweaters. I raised my head to stare at their faces. They stood shoulder to shoulder. It was unnerving to see Sirius without James.

"And," Remus continued, his voice gentle unlike Sirius' arrogant one, "since we're his best mates, we need to question you."

Mary clapped her hands together. "Typical 'we're going to watch our mate's back' talk," she said, leaning back in her chair to make herself comfortable for the show.

A number of reactions flew through my body. The first being, oh, my Godric, this _is _a date. The second being, I wish I could get rid of Mary in a nice way (though, I quickly nixed that because I was slightly anxious at the thought of being left alone with the two guys). After I had filtered all of that through my brain, I wasn't sure whether I should laugh at the role of protective parents that the two boys had taken on or if should _stupefy_ both of them and hide underneath my four-poster bed. I ended up doing a combination of both.

Denial.

"I'm not sure it's like that," I mumbled as confidently as I could.

But I wanted it to be. Right? _Right?_ Everything was becoming so confusing. Ugh. What had become of me?

Mary snorted, like she had read my mind.

"We're sure that's exactly what it's like," Sirius said. His arms were crossed, but he was smirking at me. I was struck with how much, at the moment, he resembled James. Right as I was about to open my mouth to retort, I gave up. If there was anything I had learned from the past six years of knowing them it was that there would be no reasoning with them. Sirius Black would always believe that Sirius Black was correct.

Sirius's grin grew. "So, rule number one, Remus."

Remus winked slightly. "Have fun."

My hands were tingling with numbness from their place underneath my thighs. I continued to watch them expectantly. They just stared at me, each with a sneaky little grin on their face. "Er—rule number two?" I asked.

With a small shrug of his slim shoulders, Remus grinned. "There isn't one."

"We break the rules. We don't make them," Sirius explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I had almost forgotten that Mary was there even though she was sitting next to me. She'd been so uncommonly silent throughout the whole exchange. Except for now. "You two are so bizarre," she said. "Having fun is a given."

Sirius leaned his back against the edge of the table, crossing his arms. "Well, it _is _Evans."

Oh. Nice. "Okay, you guys can leave now," I suggested, already tired of his snide comments. Besides, they were all beginning to make me feel stressed about the Hogsmeade trip; I had been perfectly fine before.

Doing what guys typically do, Remus clapped his friend on the shoulder, pulling him away. "Come on, Sirius. We know when we're not wanted."

"It's not that," Mary piped up, "it's just she's starting to over-analyze things which means she's freaking out."

Ugh. Thanks, Mary. What a friend. Sometimes, I really hated how well she and Em knew me.

Sirius pulled a face. "Ah. Emotional breakdowns. Yeah, blokes don't handle those." He turned and followed Remus out but then turned back around at the last moment. "Remember, Evans. Seductive and sexy."

I think that was about when my head collapsed into my arms. What had I gotten myself into? Emmeline had been right—I shouldn't have wished for people to make a big deal out of this. It had done nothing but make me feel like I was about to lose my breakfast.

OO

"How could you not have told us about your date with James?" Emmeline accused the second Mary and I had walked into the common room. She had my wrist in her Seeker-tight grip while she dragged me over towards the armchairs by the fireplace. All I had time to think about was how befuddled my thoughts already were without Em's out-of-the-blue panic attack.

Hadn't she just been happy for me an hour ago?

Mary followed behind us, clearly as confused as I was.

"What are you—?"

"Didn't you think it was important?" Em demanded, shaking me slightly.

With strength that even surprised me, I ripped my hand from hers, crossing my arms in case she decided to make a grab for me again. "Look, it just slipped my mind, alright?" Her blue eyes just continued to glare at me, waiting for an explanation. I sighed. "It happened the same time I received Prongs' letter, okay? I had other things going on."

Her eyes flashed dangerously. Suddenly, I wasn't so sure I should have spoken at all. What had I just said? "_Prongs_," she seethed, and though she didn't do it, I could picture the air quotations around the word. "Of _course_. You know, maybe I'll just go ask James to be my pen pal. It seems like he's fallen out anyways."

Fallen out? I had a date with him! For Merlin's sake.

"Emmeline, stop," Mary interrupted.

I simply gaped at my friend, grabbing her sleeve as she pushed her way by us. "What are you talking about?"

"Merlin, Lily," she exclaimed, throwing her arms up towards the ceiling, "don't you see what you're doing? You attach yourself to James, but as soon as Prongs jumps back into the picture, James is out of it."

For a second, I could do nothing but stare at her with my eyes bugging out of my head and my jaw resting on the carpeted floor. Well, at least that's what I pictured myself as doing anyways. But—me ignoring James for Prongs?

What?

No.

"I-I do not," I stuttered. It felt like a lung had just dropped into my big intestine. I wanted to deny her accusations, but—and what had spurned all of this on? She had been perfectly at ease with the whole situation a few hours ago. "What's really going on?" I shot back, pushing down my guilt.

"You're so stupid," she practically spat.

"You know what, Em? Whatever's going on with you and Remus is between you and him. You don't need to take your anger out on us," I retaliated.

I heard Mary suck in a breath from behind us. Yeah, tell me about it. Since when had our group become so dramatized?

And then even my breath stopped when Emmeline took a startled step backwards. "Whoever said there was anything going on?"

"We all saw you run from the room when he showed up," I recalled.

Her eyes began to dart around the room again, vibrating between me, Mary, and then to the window. She took a deep breath. "I just—" Slowly, she lowered herself backwards into a chair. What was more frightening than her defeat was the look on her face when she looked at me. "I'm sorry, Lily," she said, her face oddly pale and her tight face looking strangely misshapen as she attempted to smile. "I _am_ happy for you."

Mary was about to open her mouth—to most likely point out that she had just completely avoided the Remus issue—but I placed a hand on her arm, stopping her. When she wanted to, she'd come tell us whatever was bothering her. There was no point to push Emmeline. It was safer not to.

"Thanks," I told Emmeline. "Me too."

It wasn't until a little later, after Emmeline had left with her broomstick in hand, that the guilt finally crushed over me. Waves and waves of it. Not only had I not told them about James, Emmeline had also been right. Had I really been skipping out on James whenever Prongs came along?

Yes—well, sort of—maybe a little.

Alright. A lot.

But James had never _complained. _

As I sat by the fire, my knees pulled into my chest, I made a promise to myself. Hogsmeade would be all about my time with James. James had always been there. He'd even become Prongs' personal physical representative, all for me.

Prongs could wait for a day, at least. I mean, how hard could it be?

OO

When I woke up to the sound of chirping birds, I took that as a good omen. Because, not only had I calmed myself down the night before, I also didn't feel any awkward fluttering around my stomach region. Then again, I was still stuck in that limbo between sleep and alertness. So, right then, the birds sounded hopeful.

Then I opened my eyes.

"Haven't you ever heard of personal space?" I heard Emmeline say from the other side of the room as her footsteps pattered back and forth from the bathroom to her bed.

"We're best friends. Practically sisters. There's no such thing as a personal bubble," Mary chattered back.

Bewildered as to what was going on, I rubbed my eyes and stared at the red bed-hangings surrounding my four-poster. For a split second, I had forgotten that today was Saturday. And not only was it a Saturday, it was a Hogsmeade Saturday. That would explain my composure when I had woken up. The blood in my head began to pound. Mary was now muttering a series of "No, this won't do," underneath her breath accompanied by the sound of rustling cotton. It sounded like her voice was coming from my closet…

I pulled back my bed curtains and, for a moment, could do nothing but stare.

What fashion store had exploded in our dormitory?

Clothes were everywhere. A sky-blue blouse hanging from the lamp to the left of my bed, a white skirt thrown over the open bathroom door, scarves and gloves scattered across the floor in a vibrant array of colors. A closer look showed them all to be mine. Good morning, Lily.

"What," I began, and I gained a smidge of satisfaction when Mary jumped and dropped a pair of heels on her foot, "are you _doing_?"

On the one hand, seeing a display of outfits the morning of a Hogsmeade trip wasn't abnormal for the three of us. However, on the other hand, it was usually Mary's clothes that were scattered about, not my own. I could only imagine Mary's idea behind all of this, and, quite frankly, it made my head hurt. And, it did nothing for my squirming intestines.

"I told you so," Emmeline prattled at Mary through the toothbrush hanging from her mouth.

Mary just rolled her eyes, despite my vigorous nods. "Lily," she said, "I'm being a good friend."

Eying all of my crumpled clothes, I responded, "How? By destroying my closet?"

She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth impatiently, looking at me with extreme pity. "Lily, you need something to wear."

"Yeah, and thanks to you, all of my clothes are all over the _dirty _floor."

"Told you," Em said again after emerging from the bathroom, toothpaste free.

"No, you need something to wear-_wear_," she explained reasonably, though there wasn't anything reasonable about it. "Here," she said suddenly, and something soft and green came flying at my face. I didn't catch it.

Emmeline picked it from my head, looking at the v-neck sweater that Mary had attacked me with. "Green? Really, Mary, how cliché are you?"

"It's a good color on her," she defended as I pushed my now static-sticky hair out of my face.

I stumbled to my feet, grabbing Mary's wrist and shoving it away from the minimal amount of clothes that remained inside of my closet. "That's enough, Mary. You're kind of freaking me out." Thanks to her frantic clothes war, my stomach was rumbling now more than ever. And I wasn't even that hungry.

"Told you so. Again," Emmeline said, now running a brush through her dark hair.

Mary stomped her feet on the ground. "You are no fun," she said, spinning on her heels and waltzing to the bathroom. "You'll be thinking differently when you end up going out with James in a paper bag."

The door slammed shut.

"Just so you know," Emmeline began to clarify, "I did tell her so." She then looked towards the bathroom door, which still had my white skirt sticking out from the crack at the top of it. "Green does look good on you," she admitted sheepishly, turning away from me before I could see her grin.

In the end, I ended up wearing the green sweater—which Mary couldn't help but touch proudly all the way down to the common room—and a pair of jeans with hiking boots. Being comfortably dressed eased my nerves a little. They had returned quickly though when Mary had insisted on doing my make-up. Thankfully, I'd gotten out of that with just a touch of mascara—which was normal for me—so, my face was still intact.

I perched myself on the edge of the back of the couch, crossing my legs to hide the shaking. Mary was still clutching the edge of my sleeve and Emmeline—who had decided to spend the day catching up on school work—had set herself up at the table next to the fire. My eyes skirted to the guys' staircase. Since when did blokes take longer than girls? Neither Will nor James and company had arrived yet. I glanced out the window while we waited. The sky was a deep blue, with those cotton candy-like clouds floating along with the current of the crisp breeze. For late October, the weather was impossibly nice.

I wondered if I should take that as a good omen.

Then I remembered the morning's dress-up session with Mary McDonald and decided omens were hokey anyways.

Will made it down first, approaching Mary and kissing her on the cheek. That pretty much sent my stomach into a frenzy. It also got Mary off of my back, so I wasn't necessarily complaining. I was just about to scoot over a little to give the two of them some room when a commotion began at the top of the stairs. I glanced up and my organs leapt and swooped when I saw him. Thank Godric he was too busy having a row with Sirius to see my blush.

The first thing I noticed was that James was wearing a long-sleeved pink shirt, with a fuchsia jacket thrown over his arm. It took extreme control to re-gather all of my scrambled thoughts at the sight of his clothes.

James approached me, shoving his best mate's arm away impatiently as Sirius made a move to punch James in the arm. Any words I had were stuck in my throat, including the giggles for his wardrobe choice. "Sirius bewitched all of my shirts pink," he complained at the sight of my questioning gaze, but he was smiling widely.

Of course Sirius did. I wouldn't have expected anything less from him. "You look—" I tried not to eye him too fondly—"good," I told him, finding my voice. It wasn't a complete lie either. Of course, I thought he looked better in blue or red—oh, great, I was already visualizing him in different outfits—but the pink shirt made his dark hair look a brilliant shade of black.

He laughed. "Thanks, but, I'm still going to pummel the counter charm out of him."

And he pounced on Sirius's wand arm.

I watched them, my nerves slowly disappearing. So far, he hadn't tried to _do _anything; he hadn't gone in for a hug. He hadn't kissed me on the cheek. And I knew why. He wanted me to be comfortable with him. Because, somehow, James Potter knew all of my little quirks. It actually made me _want _to touch him.

We all headed down to the Entrance Hall together, James and I trailing behind Remus, Peter, and Sirius, who were telling jokes back and forth. I glanced at James from the corner of my eye. Sirius had agreed to turn his jacket back to its original brown, but the shirt remained a brilliant pink. His jacket remained over his arm though; he was too carefree to worry about being spotted wearing such a bright girl's color.

"You're staring at my pinkness, aren't you?" he asked suddenly.

"No," I admitted quickly, averting my eyes hastily. The tip of my ears burned. I would have to learn how to be sneakier when chancing a look at him.

He smirked in that obnoxiously cute way of his. "Go on. You can look. I don't mind."

I snorted, shoving him in the arm. "Watch yourself, Potter," I joked, "I'm just as capable of turning your jacket pink as Sirius is."

For a second, I thought he was going to laugh at my empty threat, the way his lips were twitching. But then he stared back at me, his eyes shining. "Impressive," he complemented.

I took a deep, slightly shaky breath.

Yeah, I was even impressing myself, what with holding a conversation with a bloke and all so casually as if I had done this every day of my life. Yep. Lily "Cool and Collected" Evans.

OO

"Let's stop in Zonko's," James said as we entered into the village. It was just the two of us now. Remus had to practically force Sirius in the other direction. He had only succeeded by grabbing the back of Sirius' jacket while swishing his wand threateningly up and down at Sirius' side. Peter had simply followed Sirius. So five because two.

Two. A couple.

I glanced at James now, an amused smile on my face. Zonko's? For some inexplicable reason, I really liked the way he had phrased the suggestion. It hadn't been that hesitant question type thing that's typically heard on first dates; nor had it been the mushy, pathetic "I'll do whatever you want to do, because I'm totally whipped" situation. I liked it because he wasn't treating me like I was his princess. He was just being…him. And it worked.

It was comfortable.

Most girls probably would have found that to be selfish and insensitive.

He caught my stare, his eyes widely innocent behind his round spectacles, but there was a mischievous spark hidden in there somewhere. That spark made me feel lighthearted, like I was a kid again. I laughed easily. "Some things never change," I told him, shaking my head in an exasperated way.

"I thought you liked pranksters," he joked lightly, smirking.

I felt myself blush. "What do you need in there, anyways? I thought you would have bought out the entire store by now."

With a wave of his hand, he motioned up and a down his chest. His pink chest. It was so much easier to read James now, even without spoken words. At one point, I would have found that creepy. Now I found it slightly endearing. "Let me guess. Revenge?" I questioned with a grin.

"Revenge."

"I should have known," I told him, rolling my eyes. But I hoped he knew I wasn't serious. Then I remembered who I was with and realized the chances of him taking any insult to heart were as likely as me running into Prongs. Which was slim to none considering I didn't even know who he was.

"Come on," he said, laughing now. When he laughed, it made his eyes glow nearly golden. In a swift movement, he caught my swinging hand up in his and continued walking towards the noisy store, half pulling me along seeing as I had become something close to shell-shock. My entire arm tingled, like someone had been sitting on it for ages and it had fallen asleep. Though, it wasn't as annoying. It was more like a pleasant prickle. I nearly tripped over a crack in the cobbled street, being too busy staring up at him in wonderment—I mean, it was as if he had just acted on pure impulse—and I probably would have fallen if my hand hadn't been surrounded by his warm fingers.

Godric, I hoped my sweaty palm complex wasn't going to act up.

It wasn't until he used his free hand to push open the door and the little bell dinged—well, actually, it sounded more like a clown horn—that I realized this was the first time I had ever felt comfortable holding hands with a date. James just made it so easy. He didn't act like it was any big deal, like this was a huge step in our relationship. He acted like it was natural. It just _was_.

I was just about on the verge of smiling like a complete loon when something small and circular whizzed by my head. A chuckle rumbled through James' chest—how I could even hear it was a mystery to me—as he pulled me closer towards him. If I hadn't of ducked, that thing surely would have decapitated me.

Yeah, we had entered Zonko's.

The noise hit me next. There were random bangs, consistent buzzing sounds from flying objects, loud chattering from third year students. And it was crowded. I'm talking about the type of crowded where the building looked in need of a good expandable charm before it exploded with bodies. This was one of those places where claustrophobia constantly hovered over the shelves, but the exciting, popping atmosphere kept it at bay.

James smiled down at me, and for a second I saw him as the eleven year old schoolboy he used to be. It was cute. "Stay with me," he said, gripping my hand a little tighter. I'm pretty sure I was grinning like a moron again. "I'll show you around."

He began to gently push through the crowd.

"You act as if this is my first time in here," I accused in a loud voice so I could be heard over the noise, which was a difficult thing to do seeing as I was still trying to get my breathing back to normal from my recent encounter with a fanged Frisbee and James' sweet, gentle hand attack.

"Isn't it?"

Honestly. I probably would have turned his pants pink, just to prove my point, if I had been willing to take my hand out of his to retrieve my wand. See, he was holding my wand arm; he was making it difficult. "Didn't you ever wonder who replaced your ink with the invisible stuff during that Charms lesson?" It hadn't really been just plain invisible ink though; in fact, it looked like normal black ink for an hour at least, and then everything you had written would disappear.

He stopped in the middle of a pack of fourth year boys who were obsessing over a Muggle yo-yo type of device that appeared to punch the user in the nose every time it came back up. "That was _your_ idea?" he asked incredulously.

"No, Emmeline's. I had wanted to use that insolent ink. You know, the one that—"

"—changes everything you write into rude insults," he finished, a sparkle in his eye.

I felt like he was looking at me with a new appreciation. Not that he hadn't appreciated me before—well, he better had—but like I had just exceeded an expectation that he hadn't even known existed. His head was bobbing slowly up and down in a satisfied nod, his eyes twinkling. "That was pretty good, Evans."

I shrugged modestly, but I couldn't keep myself from giggling at the memories of that little prank back in fifth year. "And, just so you know, I missed all of those notes that day, and they were guaranteed to come up on our O.W.L.s," he continued.

"Yeah, but you stole them from me the next day, so I consider us even."

Grinning to himself, he stopped us at a shelf sporting multiple sized pots of swirled-colored liquid. The sign in front of the products labeled them as 'Air Brush.' I read the description and pulled my hand from James' to pick up a smaller container. It was strangely familiar, though _I_ had never used it before.

"This," James said, sweeping his arms out wide, "is perfect." No doubt, he was scheming for his Sirius revenge, and I finally realized how I recognized this stuff. A mental image of our Defense teacher dressed up as a wolf came to mind.

"Haven't you used this before?" I asked, holding it up.

He took the jar from me. "Not that I know of; the Marauders have though. I should thank them for the idea." He chuckled like he was sharing an inside joke with himself.

An uncomfortable gulp of air clogged my throat painfully.

You see, for a second, I had lost my breath. For a second, I had thought that it had been James who had done that prank with the paintings of the professors. For the most infinitesimal of seconds, I had mistaken Prongs for James. That had never happened to me before! They always had been, and always would be, two separate people. Prongs was just—Prongs would always be—

Ugh.

I was pathetic. I had made myself a promise, and I had already failed at it. Today had nothing to do with Prongs.

This was about James.

When I looked at him, his gaze automatically put me back at ease. Any bizarre thoughts I had just had were pushed back into the deep parts of my brain. They would resurface later, no doubt, but for now James' face was rather captivating.

"I'm thinking," I said rather anxiously in an attempt to escape wandering thoughts, "of Sirius in a dress in the Great Hall during tea." I reached out between us and touched his wrist hesitantly, my fingers drifting across the skin there. My heart was beating shyly. All of these odd emotions building within me were new to me. It must have been because of my recent guilt from thinking of Prongs. Or, that's what I told myself, at least.

He tossed the jar up into the air and then caught it. "I'm thinking you're right."

Both of us were busy grinning at each other, so when someone approached us from behind and exclaimed an over-exaggerated greeting, I flinched horribly in surprise. My hand dropped from his automatically, like I'd been caught doing something indecent. Mean while, James merely tucked the pranking supplies into the crook of his arm, hidden by his jacket, before he turned to face the intruder.

"Fancy seeing you two here," Sirius said joyfully, appraising the two of us with a smirk. It made me blush, as if he were mocking me for touching James. His dark hair was windswept; behind him, Remus and Peter each were carrying a bottle of Butterbeer.

James sighed dramatically. "And here I had thought that you would at least be able to entertain yourself for two hours, at least."

"You left me with these two," Sirius claimed, "hardly a large entertainment package." It was clear that Sirius wasn't serious, though, seeing as Remus simply rolled his eyes and thumped the dark-haired boy in the back with his empty bottle.

"Don't blame us for your short attention span," Remus remarked.

Promptly ignoring that side remark—or perhaps he just hadn't heard it, any insult bouncing off of his hard head—Sirius turned to me as if he'd just seen me for the first time. "Hey, Evans," he said as an afterthought. Again, Remus rolled his eyes, his point made.

Before I could reply, Peter stepped forward, his round face shining excitedly. "McGonagall just kicked us out of the Three Broomsticks for raucous behavior. What are you doing here?" Peter asked.

I tried not to look at the supply of Air Brush behind us. It was somewhat thrilling to be in on a secret with James Potter. I felt slightly bad, like a deceitful rebel. Excitement hummed throughout my veins. "Nothing," I replied at the exact same moment James did. It sounded falsely innocent, even to my ears, although that could have just been my doing; I expected James to be better liar than that.

We all watched each other for a split second before Sirius opened his mouth, his eyes suspiciously narrowed. "You two are a dangerous pair," he said slowly. Wow. I'd never been described as dangerous before. I wondered if I should take that as an insult or a compliment.

"More dangerous now that, for once, you don't know what I'm up to," James goaded further.

"Maybe I should stay with James—"

Remus automatically cut Sirius off. I glanced up at James, who looked amusedly horrified, which are two conflicting emotions, now that I think about it, but if there was a way to describe that look, that would have been it. "I'll keep him on a tighter leash," Remus promised before grabbing the back of Sirius' sweater in a restraining grip for the second time that morning.

"These dog jokes are getting old," Sirius complained.

I had a brief second to wonder why they seemed to refer to Sirius as a canine pet—the answer seeming to be just out of reach, like it was vaguely familiar, like I'd been told the information before—and then James grabbed my arm just above my elbow. "Let's go before I have to get the Invisibility Cloak out." He laughed happily as we made our way to the cash register.

"You have an Invisibility Cloak?" I asked incredulously, my parting wave for his friends cut off as I registered what my date—my head spun at that word—just said.

He hesitated for just a millisecond too long, and I immediately figured out that he had let something slip that he hadn't meant to. I wondered why. If anything, it was highly interesting. "Are you mad?" he asked carefully, his voice light.

Oh. He'd been afraid I would be angry with him. Invisibility Cloaks were hardly illegal. "Well," I began, as he handed over a few silver knuts to the man behind the counter, "it does explain a lot." Like how he seemed to always weasel his way out of trouble, or how he could come back into the common room with Sirius at one in the morning without ever getting a detention for being out in the corridor. It was all so mysterious, and made him all the more intoxicating.

The cold air hit us in a rush of early winter breeze as we stepped outside. He must have seen me shiver, because he grabbed my hand again. That caused me to quiver for a whole other reason entirely. "So, would Sirius really have followed us?" I asked, deciding to drop the whole invisible discussion. He hadn't seemed so keen on it.

James chuckled. "Nah." Then he glanced at me. "Well, maybe," he admitted with a smile.

"You two are always together," I noted.

"We're just used to being with each other," he explained. Though I could feel the tip of my nose burning with the cold, my hand was comfortably warm. "He lives with my family, you know."

Surprised, I looked at him. "He does?" I felt somehow disappointed that I hadn't known this earlier. He'd been a part of my life since I was eleven years old, and I was just finding out there was so much I didn't know about him. It was frustrating and extremely bewildering.

"Well, _lived _I should say. He's found himself an apartment now. But, yeah, he moved in a few years ago," James said. "You must know his family history."

"His cousin's a Death Eater, right?" I asked. "Married one too," I remembered from the news articles that had been popping up all over the prophet since fifth year. Not to mention that I'd always known that Sirius was one of the first Blacks to not be sorted into Slytherin. Not that all Slytherins were evil.

"Yeah, and his parents _adore_ them," he commented darkly. The harsh expression on his face made me squeeze his hand. "Anyways," he continued, his face lightening again, "Sirius became my parents' adopted son."

Everything he was telling me was triggering a memory in the back of my brain. I tried to grasp it, but I was currently too busy mulling over Sirius Black's story. I had never known any of that, and I'd practically lived with these boys since puberty. Merlin, the Giant Squid was probably more observant than I was. I mean, I'd always known Sirius must have come from some type of dark family; though he was never cruel, he had always possessed that haughty, royal presence that reminded me of an evil dictator's heir. It made me appreciate Sirius all the more, the way he'd fought against his dark upbringing and all.

"That's nice," I thought out loud.

James began to swing our arms back and forth, a permanent grin attached to his face now. I wondered if I looked the same. "Enough about my crazy brother," he began, "what do you want to do now?"

And then the memory came. The one that I couldn't think of earlier. It hit me now, perfectly clear, like I was looking through a pensive.

Prongs had once told me he had a brother. That must have been the word that had delivered the answer: brother. My brain gave me the words I was looking for, the words from a letter that he'd written to me a year ago. _The-brother-I-always-thought-I-wanted-until-he-moved-in_. Dazedly, while James walked along beside me, his fingers resting in between my knuckles, I wondered whether all pranksters lived the same lives.

"What do you think, Lily?"

Looking at him now sent a wave of nerves into my stomach. His familiar messy hair that used to drive me crazy but now drove me off the deep end, his bright hazel eyes that glinted gold in the light. "I think," I said distractedly, "I need a drink."

OO

Time, I quickly learned, while with James became irrelevant. It took us both by surprise when we ran into Mary and Will, who were making their way back to the castle. Mary was never one to quit out on a date early—especially since she loved Hogsmeade—unless the date was going to continue in some secluded part of the castle. So, that's what I assumed was happening, until the couple informed us that it was nearly four in the afternoon. Where had the day gone? I hadn't even realized that we had missed lunch.

My hand was wrapped into James' once again. When Mary had caught that, I had squirmed a bit, sensing the squeals building up behind her throat. Thankfully, she'd held it in, but I had no hope to think that she would forget about it when she saw me later today. We were almost on the outskirts of the village, heading back towards the castle. A few clouds had started to roll in, the temperature dropping as the sun became hidden.

"James," I found myself asking, "can you produce a patronus?"

Since my question was most likely the last thing he'd expected—we had been discussing Quidditch before then and Gryffindor's chances for the cup—James looked at me, his dark eyebrows pinched together in the middle of his forehead. I figured that the sudden chill to the air must have made me think about Dementors, and thus the charm to repel them. Why else would I have asked such a random question?

"We learned about them last year, right?" he answered. I nodded in encouragement, watching him interestedly. "I was only ever able to produce the mist," he admitted, shrugging. "My dad worked with me on it last summer, though."

Neither a complete answer nor a total avoid of the question. By what he had said, I took it as a confirmation that he could produce one; even though I had no flipping clue as to why I felt that answer to be important. Well, maybe my subconscious had some motive. I wrapped my free arm around my waist, looking away from him and studying the thatched cottages that were lining the walkway now. "I wish I could," I said.

"You'd probably be some kind of odd animal, like a Sphinx or something," he guessed.

Looking at him again, I laughed. "So, you think I'm odd?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," he chuckled. "Some animal that's strangely beautiful yet mysterious."

Mysterious. That was another word I would never have used to describe myself. My mom had always told me I was an open book. Then again, I'd never been called beautiful by someone other than my parents or my friends either. My knees wobbled a little, like my legs were too tired to go on, and I tried to distract my body from their hormonal reactions. "Oh, so now I'm _strangely_ beautiful," I accused lightly, unable to stop the grin.

There were voices coming toward us, heading back towards the village as James smiled and pretended to zip his mouth shut in such a Muggle way that it took me by surprise. Then, as the voices became more distinct so that I could make out deep, male tones, James rapidly yanked my wrist, and pulled us both into a narrow pass between two houses. I gasped in surprise as his arm wrapped around my stomach, hugging me to the stone wall of the smaller of the homes. He peeked around me to look out onto the street. It was black in this alley from the roofs that hung over it, so I could hardly see his face. My lungs spazzed excitedly; it made me want to slap myself.

"Um, James," I began hesitantly, struggling half-heartedly against his arm. Two boys were now walking past our hiding space, their green scarves rustling in the wind. He shushed me anxiously. I cleared my throat anyways. "They're only Slytherins," I told him. Mulciber and Avery to be exact, and though they weren't the nicest of Slytherins by any means, they weren't about to _Crucio_ us right then and there either. Well, not when potential witnesses could be watching, anyway. Not to mention, we were the Head Boy and Girl.

His face appeared in front of mine as he leaned around my body. As my eyes began to adjust to the sudden change in light, I could see the corners of his eyes wrinkle. "I don't want to duel them," he said, and then he caught my narrowed expression. "They won't be too pleased to see me," he confessed, and there was something to his tone that made everything suddenly clear.

I tightened my eyes. "What did you do?"

He watched my expression for a few seconds, his warm breath hitting my face, causing me to lose my train of thought. I tried to focus on my own breathing instead. "Would you be mad if I said we pranked them?"

Rolling my eyes, I tried to push against his arm that was still trapping me back into the wall, as if he were trying to protect me from some unknown danger. Needless to say, his arm didn't move, though, in my defense, I wasn't putting my full force against it. "That depends on what you did," I said slowly, exasperated. Half of me was angry that he'd put us in this shadowy situation, where the darkness seemed to sharpen my girl instincts. The other half of me was mad at my apparently weak self-restraint.

"It was just a little redecoration," he claimed, the tips of his lips curving upwards.

Redecoration. The Prongs part of my mind was trying to burst forth again, pushing and slamming into the walls I'd built for this trip specifically. This was the part of my brain that was withholding all of my information about Prongs in a compact space until I was ready to observe them again. It was this part of my mind that was trying to tell me something now. Needless to say, it wasn't easy to suppress it, so it took me longer than usual to come up with something to say.

"I didn't know you fancied interior design, James." My words were just a bit cold, as I was still trying to win the battle against my unwelcome memories.

In a swift movement, he moved from beside me to in front of me, both of his hands placed on either side of my body as if it were natural. I nearly yelped again at his closeness, at the woody yet sweet smell of his open jacket. Quickly, and quite frantically, I shook my head. Now it was hard to think of anything _but _James. "Hypothetically speaking, of course," he began, "we may have delayed their departure time for Hogsmeade." He nodded, his eyes shining. "Peeves may have been involved, and, _hypothetically_, we may have let him into their common room." I dunno what my face looked like, but it made James say, "Hypothetically," again.

Well, that explained why they were just now going into the village.

I found myself unable to do anything but stare at him, unable to find any words, because the words I usually would have used—telling offs, detention threats, name calling—died on my tongue. I wasn't angry. Or, rather, I should say that I wasn't angry at _him_—my heart was still thrumming erratically. Objectively, I looked at the situation and I realized I was amused. And the tingling sensation that his arm had left around my midriff had me wanting to grab his arm and place it back there. That made me angry again.

I was going to have a migraine at the end of this.

"Lily," he sang a little anxiously, "say something." His deep voice caused me to shiver with goose bumps, which _infuriated _me. I met his gaze cautiously, knowing the darkness had already caused me to go a little crazy, and the words I had been about to say—something along the lines of amateur pranksters who had the school poltergeist do their dirty deeds—morphed into something else entirely.

"Your face," I began, the words seeming to just tumble from my mouth, "Your face is somewhat p—" I just managed to clamp my bumbling mouth shut, mortified. Why, oh why, were we still in this black, enclosed space when the airy path was empty and two feet away from us? See, I had been about to say that his face was pretty. That not only would have been extremely embarrassing but would have also sounded incredibly stupid. My cheeks burned at my, just barely, silent thoughts.

Maybe I just shouldn't say anything else, because if I opened my mouth it would be just too easy to spill my feelings to him. He was smiling a little, trying to mask his confusion. Crossing my fingers, I hoped he would just let it go. "My face is what?" he asked, a laugh vibrating through his chest. Aw, drat. No such luck. He was too curious for his own good.

And he was much too close.

I meant to turn, to lead us back out to the road, where things would be less stressful—stressful, huh, yeah, that was a good word. I _was_ stressed. Having to control my hands, my quickening breaths, my traitorous hormonal thoughts. It took more concentration that it had ever had before to keep my head; James just made everything seem right. So, when I turned, I forgot that his arms were there, and my chest rammed right into his left bicep. It knocked the wind out of me, leaving me breathless. He caught me as I stumbled backwards into his other arm. I felt like I was stuck in a cage, a rather pleasant cage—with strong, yet warm bars—

"Sometimes you're really annoying, Lily," he commented with a chuckle when I didn't respond, his hand resting on my forearm. I didn't trust myself to say much while we were still in this blasted alley, so I merely squeaked a quiet, "Sorry." James was watching me with that obnoxious—adorable, yes—but right now obnoxious smirk.

What happened next caught us both off guard. I pegged my actions on the two bottles of Butterbeer I had drunk. Or, maybe I had just become so comfortable with James that even something as scary as this seemed attainable. Or it could have been something else entirely, who knows. All I know is that the next thing I knew, I had jumped to my toes and had grabbed his shoulders.

It was easy with James because he acted so quickly. There was no time to reassess, to over-think, or to freak out and dump his cute arse. Because, a split second after my irrational spaz attack, his face was so close to mine that the tip of his long nose swept against my warm cheek, muting any of my opposition. He was so maddeningly close that when he hovered there for a while, uncertain, the voice in my brain growled impatiently. His eyes had remained opened—perhaps because it had happened all so fast—so when my own eyes popped open, I caught his stare. I hadn't even known I had closed mine; maybe it was like jumping off of a cliff, closing my eyes so that I wouldn't have to see the dizzying jump I was about to take.

Neither one of us moved. I didn't think I was breathing either.

"Not ready," he muttered. His lips brushed against mine as he spoke, sending a jolt through my bones. A jolt that felt like it could be bumped up in power by a thousand watts if we'd been willing; it left me feeling strangely empty and disappointed.

With a gasp at my shocking behavior and then my even more shocking reaction to it, I backed away and ran into the wall behind me. Ouch. "N-No," I breathed back.

His hazel eyes seemed to sweep over me, analyzing my expression. "Come to me," he told me carefully, his fingers still grazing my arm. My lungs were working again, but only in short, shallow bursts. "Come to me when you are."

I could do nothing but stare. My mind had become extremely lightheaded at his words, like I was floating out of my own body. As I began to ascend to high, random flashes of memory streaked across my head. Paper, an ink-drawn stag, an emblem. Something in my chest thumped against my ribcage. And now I was no longer floating, but free-falling, my brain tumbling as the déjà vu ended, and I realized where I'd heard those very same words before. Or, rather, where I had _read _them.

The Prongs part of my brain was punching my thick skull again.

_Holy Harold._

* * *

_So, there's that. I hope you guys liked it! I'm currently sitting here, biting my nails, debating whether or not I should post this chapter. So, please, let me know what you thought about it. As for the length of this story--it shouldn't be much longer. I'm thinking three chapters, at the most. But, we'll see. _

_With the end of this story approaching, I've been debating whether or not I'm going to write something else. I've already come up with an idea, and I've written the first chapter of it, just to test it out. It's going to be a Twilight story (Yeah, I know, I'm delving into new territory with this...). The description of it is in my profile, so if you're curious, go ahead and check that out. Let me know what you think of the idea so far. _

_Anways, thank you so much for reading! If it's not too much trouble, leave a little note telling me what you thought about this chapter. Oh, and if anybody has any good book recommendations, let me know! I'm currently looking for a book to read, but I don't know what's good. Here's my recommendation--The Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare. They're amazing! Seriously, go read them. _

_Live up the rest of your summer! It's almost over!_

_EDIT-- I've already started Chapter 13, so, hopefully, it shouldn't be more than two weeks! Thanks again for reading everybody! :D_

_--HeyLookTheSnitch_


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** _Do I really have to go through this again?_

**A/N:** _....... I'm speechless. lol. But really, I'm always so excited/surprised whenever I get a review, or an alert, or just to find out that people have been reading this story. Thanks a million times over to the following people who reviewed: Jessiquie, I'.PsychoDramaBeautyQueen, Butterfly1989, serenity12345, Kiara Avalon, Alex507, coffee dessert , Bellas-lullaby, Deanna, Kiley 1 09, NeverQuitDreaming, MissDreamy, ..Wannabe., SparklyVamp, snipe-g, Magical Singer Gal, sckarlie potter, Vampires and Penguins, theessenceofmurtlap, .., bookwurm23, Tris-WannaBe, Coloring the Sky, Adosia, theXblueXcray0n, drumer girl, Katie, ellesra, Jess-siriusly, Randomisation, -Lost In The Stars-, -Lost In The Stars-, James' Girl Lily, random smilie, jessicats, xlillyx, austenfan92, jasmineflower27, EdwardsLily, N7 Space Marine, Whisperheart, xboredeasilyx, WickedIsMyCrack, The3Magi, SoManyObsessions, xExpectoxPatronumx, FallingForFootie, DanceDiva, Riley S, cannotstopwriting, Amethyst-Heart, Ali Keys, CL7, and A-Lady. Holy hippogriff, you are all awesome! :)_

_Also, major thanks go out to my wonderful beta who is....well, AMAZING! Thank you, thank you!_

_So, since I should be getting to bed since I have to get up early tomorrow, there will be no further random ramblings from me. Well, actually, I do have one last thing to say that I believe is note worthy--IT HASN'T EVEN BEEN THREE WEEKS YET SINCE MY LAST UPDATE! I'm so proud of myself! :p Enjoy the chapter!_

_Happy reading!_

* * *

**Chapter 13: Mr. Prongs Potter**

_I run to fast  
Or too slow it seems  
When lies become the truth  
That's when I run to you_  
--Lady Antebellum, I Run to You

* * *

_Come to me._

_~Lily_

OO

James couldn't be Prongs. He just couldn't. Could he? James Prongs. Prongs James. Prongs Potter. Potter Prongs. What in the name of Dumbledore's knickers (and I never took my headmaster's name in vain, so that was saying something of its own) was going on here? My brain felt oddly fuzzy, as if someone had filled my head with Firewhiskey—or, more realistically, like the bartender working at the Three Broomsticks had spiked my Butterbeer. The world had been tipped on its axis, jumbling up all of my prioritized thoughts on its way. Without any conscious thought, I began to relive the date.

Instantly, I was hit with a heat flash of embarrassment. Oh, Merlin, James probably thought I was mental now. On the way back to the castle, I hadn't even been able to form a coherent thought in my own head, let alone found a way to speak them out loud. Needless to say, it had been an incredibly silent journey, but I'd been too preoccupied by the fact that I was most likely walking alongside _Prongs _to even notice how awkward it had become. James had probably thought it was because I was still horrified at the thought of how close we had come to kissing. Even though I'd been the one to initiate it, to grab him, to pull him to me…he'd been the one to stop it.

Stupid Potter.

Argh!

For the love of everything magical, I was sitting here fantasizing about snogging James Potter when he very well could be Prongs. Clearly, this whole tilting of the world thing was really screwing with my mind.

Currently, I was standing in the middle of my dormitory without any recollection of getting there. James had dropped me off. Hadn't he? He'd said something to me as well—I _think_— something along the lines of a goodbye, but by then I could have turned anything he would have said into some rearranged version of, "Prongs, Prongs, Prongs, you're Prongs!" Thus, naturally, I had kept my mouth shut in response to _whatever_ he'd said; it must have been then that I'd raced up the girls' staircase, taking two at a time, sometimes even three when I felt I could manage it.

Had I even said anything at all, or had I just made a run for it?

It took me a second to realize that I wasn't breathing. My lungs ached in relief as a deep swell of cool oxygen pushed by the Snitch-sized lump that had become lodged in my esophagus.

Snitch.

James.

Prongs.

_Crap._

I stared around my living space helplessly, hoping that—somehow—a flashing sign would appear above my head advertising a special potion that would give the drinker extreme insight into their complicated love lives. Far off in the back of my head, in some vague little place that was still alert and coherent, I wondered where my friends were at the moment. Then, almost instantaneously, a surge of relief swept through my system, leaving me feeling incredibly fortunate that neither Emmeline nor Mary were here with me. Besides, Em had never taken to my obsession with Prongs, always hinting at Potter to get my mind off of it—wait. A gulp of air hitched in my chest. Emmeline _knew_. The sudden jolt of realization pushed all the haze from my senses, and, for that moment, one thing became sparkling clear. Of course Em had the answers.

Then, just as abruptly, my heart thudded once more and then sank, as I recalled the last time I'd turned to Emmeline for Prongs information.

She couldn't tell me. And there was no way in hell she would ever tell me, seeing as Em despised people who broke promises almost as much as she hated hypocrites.

What if I told her my theory, and I guessed right? Maybe that would veto her binding word. I could be wrong though. Alright, that was a very infinitesimal chance even I would admit; everything within me, call it my intuition, my Witch sixth-sense, knew that my guess felt right. But still.

What if it wasn't? I'd been wrong before, after all.

My gaze swept across the empty room again, coming up empty. If there was a way to figure it out on my own, a way that wouldn't involve Emmeline or James, I would take it. Just to save myself from looking like a fool. Again. Just in case it was another Sirius situation. My temples were pounding from the rush of my blood, starting off as a dull ache and then becoming more pronounced. Think, Lily, think. I glared at the foot of my bed, upset with its lack of expertise. On the floor, to the side of my trunk, a jumble of heavy-looking books made up a convoluted mess. One of them was the footprint book I'd bought in Diagon Alley that summer. Well, too bad books wouldn't help me now.

It took me a second to process my idiotic words.

_Oh_.

I felt my eyes widen.

And then I sprang for my trunk.

Precariously, I began to chuck all of the useless junk that had accumulated in my school trunk onto my bed: a broken quill, an empty ink bottle, a pair of knickers that had gotten a hole in them. Where was it? _Where was it? _I couldn't even remember the last time I'd used it; it felt like it'd been ages since I'd last received a letter from Prongs. Finally, after dislodging a pair of leggings that I never wore, my eyes caught a flash of purple. The journal that Mary had given me for Christmas in fifth year that now housed all of my letters. I yanked it up and out, shoved all of the crap that I had just placed there off of my bed and onto the floor, and sat myself down oddly reasonably compared to the chaotic thoughts spinning around in my head. The letters would be able to tell me everything.

In a complete frenzy now, I pulled out the first note I'd ever gotten from Prongs, scanning the words as if through a magnifying glass. It took me two tries to read it, since my eyes seemed unable to focus for more than a second. My heart seemed to pump out a frantic beat with every word. After reaching the bottom of the parchment, my stomach seemed to plunge at the same time that a wave of relief washed over me. Alright, nothing screamed James Potter at me—I examined it once more—then again, this letter had just been the starter. I supposed the sarcastic way he'd said Happy Valentine's Day could sound like James—after all, I had thought that this Pr. person must have known me from the beginning—but _anyone _could have said that. I tossed that one aside, breathing deeply.

When the second and third letters didn't give me much insight to go off of either, I began to feel extremely foolish. Had I jumped to conclusions, again? I was ridiculous. My hands stopped shaking as I placed the third one on top of the others. Maybe everything had been a coincidence. I mean, pranksters were sure to be alike, right? Act alike…think alike, say similar things. _Come to me_. Something in my brain jumped erratically, and I pounced on the fourth letter in reaction; this was the one where he had answered my question about his age. Of course, he'd answered it rather vaguely, and I had thought it to be useless at the time, but now—

_Young enough to still have fun, but old enough to have to consider my future. _

That could be James. I appraised it with narrow eyes. In fact, it described him extremely well. My chest constricted painfully, and it took me a few seconds to notice the reason I was having trouble focusing on the worn letters was because my hands were shaking again. I forced myself to calm down. That statement could have described me, as well, back in sixth year. But then I reached the part of the letter where he'd admitted that his friends wouldn't be happy if they found out he was writing to me; my brain clicked to life. James and his mates had had a falling out at the beginning of this year. I ran through my memories. Yeah. James had even told me that the reason for their fight was because they were afraid that James would tell me certain things.

_Certain things. _

I forced myself to calm down by trying to control my loud breathing. They were pranksters. The Marauders were pranksters. Both of them would have secrets that, naturally, they wouldn't want in the hands of a former Prefect and current Head Girl. Yet, the coincidences were piling too high for my liking, a long, tipsy pile that looked as if it were about to explode at any moment. I began to scramble.

More quickly now, and with a lot more desperation, I plowed through the last few remaining letters. The littlest things began to jump out at me, one after the other, with such force that it was almost as if I was being hit repeatedly with a _Stupefy_ hex. Prongs had redecorated his mum's living room; James had redecorated the Slytherins' common room. Both had taken their O.W.L.'s. They could each produce a Patronus. Relationships with Harold. A relationship with Sirius. Invisibility Cloak. _Come to me. _

_Merlin. _

That pile I'd been describing earlier capsized, all of its contents rushing over me in a wave that knocked me breathless. One thing I knew for certain was that I was so incredibly unobservant it wasn't even funny. Angry now, I shoved all eight letters away from my lap and pulled my legs into my chest. The two separate spaces in my brain—the places that kept my feelings for Prongs and James separate—started to blur now, blending into one another. And, I remembered other things: that James had been the one to ultimately get me to write back to Prongs, James helping me find the animal footprint book (of course he would have helped me, perhaps hoping that I would put two and two together), Emmeline trying to hook me up with James all year. And she would have done that, if she had known that James was Prongs. I mean, why else would she have tried to set me up with anybody? Emmeline and her trust issues.

Trust.

That reminded me of something else. Something that was so obvious now that it was nearly painful. James becoming the delivery boy—_Oh_.

What if Sirius had finally found out about _Prongs _and me? Yeah, and that had been what their fight had been about. And Harold belonged to Sirius Black, so, what if he had forbidden James to use Harold any longer? His owl had never been injured. I didn't forget that it had been directly after Harold stopped delivering letters that Sirius, Remus, and Peter had forgiven James.

They had thought that James—Prongs—had given up.

Everything was adding up in a scary way.

I clutched at my legs harder now, afraid that if I let them go, I would lose everything. Okay, but what if this was all just making sense because I was forcing them to? Stubborn as always, the few things that didn't make sense began to creep up. If Prongs was James, why would James have decided to ignore me in sixth year but be perfectly charming in Prongs' letters? And why wouldn't he have just told me? He had taken the time to write me as Prongs, to get to know me, for me to get to know him. Why all the secrecy? I would have listened, I would have—

Wouldn't have I?

A stab of guilt twisted my stomach, as I realized that if James had told me back in fifth year everything he told me as Prongs, I would have scoffed at him. Perhaps James had known that. But he could have told me this year. My intestines perked up at this, twisting and squirming. James had tried to tell me, and I hadn't let him. Dazedly, I stared out the window, too numb to do anything else. I wasn't sure how long it had been since I'd gotten back from Hogsmeade, but my room had grown steadily darker as the sun began to set behind the Scottish mountains.

It felt like something was gathering up inside of me, great globs of it exerting its force against my throat, the back of my eyes, my lungs. Some type of pressure that was pushing its way up to my mouth, searching for an escape route. I realized that I felt like screaming, screaming so loudly that it would drown out my frustrated thoughts.

My chin snapped up from my knees, and I bit my tongue, as I heard footsteps outside of my dormitory. One pair of them. It wasn't until I reached up to hastily wipe at my eyes that I realized that they must have leaked at some point—that frustration had to relieve itself somehow, after all. I had just finished drying my cheeks with my sleeve when Emmeline strolled into the dormitory, school bag thrown over her shoulder. For a brief moment, she stopped, probably surprised to see me sitting in the middle of my bed curled up into the fetal position.

"Lily?" she asked, closing the door behind her. Honestly, who else would it be? That strange pressure had returned to my chest now. "How did your day go?"

That one simple question was all it took to set me off. That, and the fact that it was Emmeline, and she hadn't told me the truth. The pressure finally erupted. "James is Prongs," I blurted out, and the sound reminded me of a popping bubble. I wrapped my arms around myself so tightly that my hands began to go numb.

I couldn't look at her, knowing that if I did I would most likely start to cry angrily again. Instead, I glared at my bedspread, the design swimming in and out of focus. It only took Emmeline about three seconds to recover from my sudden outburst, and then she was kneeling in front of me, her hands on my shins. My glares remained on my bedspread, the tears swelling the image to twice its normal size.

"He told you?" she asked softly.

All I could do was shake my head back and forth.

"You figured it out?"

Nodding, I finally glanced up at her briefly. Her blue eyes were bright with worry—anxious for my response, I supposed—as she bit her bottom lip. Her expression nearly raised a sob to my lips. I wondered why I felt like crying; it was such a stupid reaction. With that realization, I tried to push against the lump in my throat. Slowly, my vision cleared.

"Well, it did take you long enough," she continued.

My neck cracked upwards as fresh anger rushed to my head; I swear I saw red for a second. She didn't back down when my harsh gaze met her face. This was why I would have preferred that Mary would have been the one to find me; though she may have been disgustingly gushy about the whole situation, at least she wouldn't have commented on my stupidity. "Why didn't you tell me?" I snapped. Talk about déjà vu.

Emmeline must have thought the same thing. "We've been through this," she said patiently—at least she was trying to keep her tone comforting. "I swore I wouldn't."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I declared in a crazed way, "but I thought _I _was your best friend."

She patted my calf; if she was trying to make me feel better, it wasn't working. "You are." When I just continued to glare at her, she continued. "James doesn't fight fairly." I could feel the creases form in between my eyes as my forehead puckered. "He threatened to bench me, Lily. _Me. _As if I wasn't the best Seeker he's ever hard."

My fingernails dug into my palm. Here she was—my so-called best mate—going off about her great athletic skills, when I was on the edge of an emotion abyss. "So Quidditch was more important than my sanity?"

With a sigh that sounded a lot like a chuckle to me, she slapped my leg before placing her hands in front of my feet. "I did try to warn you," she pointed out.

"Yeah," I said, frustrated again, while I pulled my legs further out of Emmeline's reach, "that Prongs was a girl. You never said anything about him being James Potter."

"Which brings us back to the whole 'I couldn't tell you' thing."

We stared at each other; well, I was more of the frowning type at the moment actually. Em was looking at me in a matter-of-fact way that made it clear that she felt justified in her betrayal. "So," I quipped darkly, "are you going to tell me how you found out?"

"Only if you forgive me first."

I crossed my arms across my chest, watching her. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. Now she wasn't the one fighting fairly. The left-over anger was still bubbling around in my blood, so I felt rather vindictive. "You should just consider yourself lucky that I haven't hexed you yet."

She rolled her eyes, but not before I saw her eyes flicker to my pocket. "Look, I haven't known that long; it has only been since the start of this term, so you shouldn't be so angry with me," she explained.

Only since the start of our seventh year. Really? I tried to keep the surprise from showing on my face; it had felt like much longer than that. Had it honestly only been two months ago? My brain was having trouble wrapping itself around that knowledge. "Continue," I told her.

The mattress of my bed dipped down slightly as Emmeline took a seat on the edge beside me. "This summer I was over at the Potters'—you know, my parents are Aurors and James's parents give a lot of money to the Law Enforcement department of the Ministry," she broke off and looked at me, waiting for my nod of confirmation that all was understood so far. "Anyways," she started again, "I happened to be there when your letter showed up, the one you'd written to Prongs." For some reason, my heart was pumping hard. When Emmeline laughed, I jumped. "Imagine the shock when I spotted Harold nibbling a piece of toast and a letter with your handwriting tied to its leg."

My forehead was throbbing. "But, wouldn't Sirius have—"

Emmeline shook her head. "No, apparently he was out looking for an apartment. James had to choose his timing wisely, using Sirius' bird and all with Sirius living in his house." I shook my head, trying to make sense out of it all. "That James Potter can be pretty crafty," Em noted.

"Crafty," I muttered, lost in thought.

That was one way to put it. I had other words in mind; words like deceitful, dishonest, sneaky, under-handed…

And then I began to picture Emmeline at James's house, and a hot flash shot through my stomach. A feeling that made me angry at my friend all over again. Mental images began popping up in front of my eyes: her and James, hanging out, summertime, humidity, less clothing. I had to pinch myself in the thigh to stop my raging imagination. This was no time to be jealous. Wait. I was jealous. Why was I jealous? It wasn't like I had any claim on him. Though we had gone out on a date…Besides, Emmeline had never shown a strong preference towards James, or any of his friends to be exact. They had always just been friends. She never treated anyone of them in a special way, especially now with Remus—

_Remus_.

A slimy thing slivered up my spine that seemed to gnaw at my back on its way up to my neck. It sent my body into odd convulsions, and I found that my hands had balled up, the nails clutching onto clumps of fabric from my duvet. Something was trying to spill from my tongue. It hovered on the tip, pushing against my pursed lips.

"Werewolf," I gasped.

Yes, that had been the word I'd been choking on.

Was it possible? I held my breath as I zipped through my memories of my fellow prefect, of his frequent absences to visit his sick mother, of his equally sick appearance, of James defending lycanthropes—oh my Merlin. Irrationally—considering the situation—and completely unexpectedly, guilt crushed onto my head so heavily that it clouded any of my fear that I might have felt.

"Yes," Emmeline's voice said gravely, "isn't it _awful_?"

Though I was staring at her with wide eyes, I realized that I couldn't really see her. She was just a vague blur of brown hair and pale skin. "Yes," I agreed slowly, "I am a horrible friend."

There was a brief moment of hesitation on Emmeline's part, yet I was too caught up in my newest discovery to notice it. Physically, I wasn't even aware of her presence. I was too busy trying to keep my head above the water as the Giant Squid of my mind kept grabbing me with its tentacles to drag me downward. "_What?" _she exclaimed, and it was only because she screeched it that I registered her voice. Impatiently, I waved her off.

Godric, I had worked alongside this bloke for two years, had taken the same classes as him for six, had known him since I was freaking eleven years old! The guilt intensified. "What is wrong with me?" I muttered mostly to myself.

"Wrong with _you?"_ Emmeline declared sarcastically. "You just found out that a guy we've lived with our whole lives is a monster, and you're afraid there's something wrong with you?"

I hardly heard her words. I was too distraught with myself and my apparently terrible, shallow social skills. It left me feeling incredibly embarrassed. "I'm so unobservant," I cried.

Emmeline pried my hands away from my face. The way she was observing me, it made me feel as if I had lost my mind. "You're feeling _guilty?" _

Part of me wanted to fling myself into my pillows and bury my face; the other half, the more intelligent part, knew that it would look extremely foolish if I did. So, I settled for covering my eyes with my hands again. "Do I walk around with my eyes closed?" I mumbled into my sleeve, horrified with myself.

"Apparently," Emmeline said, and it sounded like she was accusing me of a hideous crime. "Have you ever even read the stories on werewolves?"

It was her speculative tone, her underlying revulsion when she'd practically spat out the word werewolf, that set the spark off. Finally registering why she was so upset, I glanced at her. "He's still Remus, Em."

"He's also a raving murderer who would rip you apart, limb for limb—"

My circling thoughts were making me dizzy again. "Shut up," I commanded, "Just, be quiet. Please."

How had I never noticed one of my classmates, one of my _friends_, morph into a wolf-like mythical creature? How could someone possibly miss that? Especially if it happened once a month. Especially if he was your friend, your partner. I began to feel a little bit better, knowing that at least the entire school population seemed unaware of it as well. At least I wasn't alone. But, then again, I had spent half of my fifth and sixth year with that boy. Apart from James, Sirius, and Peter, he'd seen me the most. Merlin, he probably thought I was the dimmest Prefect to ever roam the halls of Hogwarts. Then again, he most likely hadn't wanted me to know, but that didn't stop me from feeling as daft as a Niffler who'd chased a patch of reflected light thinking it was a diamond. And did I even need to mention Prongs? Really, I had just blatantly ignored the clues until they had slapped me around the face with vengeance.

I was a social defect.

"Godric," I moaned, "I'm such a failure! Remus, and first with Prongs," I trailed off, unable to blink my large eyes; it felt like my pupils had expanded to take over my entire face.

Emmeline huffed and crossed her arms firmly, leaning away from me. "I don't see what the problem is," she began, still miffed with me for telling her to shut her mouth. "I mean, you like James now."

Her words froze in midair in a tangle of letters.

_I liked…_

All of my blood left my face; it was as if someone had pushed the tap and all the liquid had been drained from my head. And it was so hard not to show my shock at her words, knowing that if I failed at hiding my emotions, Emmeline would acquire that satisfied smirk of hers. But hearing someone say it like that, so simply, so obviously, forced me to recognize another horrible truth about myself; not only was I unobservant with other people, but I was equally unperceptive with myself.

And, of course I knew what I had to do now. I had to set everything right. Call it my 'Prefection.'

Keeping my eyes carefully averted from Em's piercing gaze—clearly, she was still upset with me—I leaned over the edge of my bag and rummaged around in my trunk. Within half a second, I had produced a piece of paper and a quill. My back to my friend, I rested the quill on the parchment. What to say? There were so many things I could say.

But there was only one perfect thing to say.

I scribbled three words down and then folded it in half twice.

"I have to go," I told her, slipping on my shoes. She looked about ready to open her mouth to berate me, but I beat her to it. If I let her start, she'd never finish, and I couldn't risk waiting around ; I'd probably end up talking myself out of what I was about to do. "You sit here and think about what you said about Remus."

The gulp of air that she sucked in nearly whistled through her teeth. Satisfied—for a while, at least—I spun on my heel toward the exit.

It wasn't until after the door had shut behind me that my brief satisfaction was replaced with my originally appalling thoughts, and I grasped the danger of being out in the open. I didn't like the thought of being exposed. What if James was down there? I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't. Not yet. Definitely not in person, face-to-face. That was why I had written the note, dammit. My brain was still too busy wrapping itself around all of these new discoveries, which explained my hasty decisions as of late. For a while, I stood on the small patch of floor at the top of the stairs, hidden from view by the wall that wound its way up from the common room. If he was down there, I wondered what I would do.

Probably create a moron out of myself.

James had said I was mysterious though. Maybe—to him, anyways—I could hide my motives, my emotions, well. Experimentally, I tried to rearrange my face into a neutral, blank look by dulling my wide eyes and wiping away the Stupefied tightness of my facial muscles. Even to me, I felt like an idiot. But I did it. I could do this.

Nevertheless, I peeked my head around the corner, my palms flat down on the cold stone of the wall, to peer into the common room below. For the most part, it looked free of messy-haired teenagers. There was one corner of the room I couldn't view from this vantage point, but the chances of him being there—I took a mental note of how my face felt, and then descended the stairs. My heart wasn't even beating unnaturally…much. Merlin, I was better at this whole acting thing than I had thought.

"Lily—"

In a reflex reaction, my neck snapped towards the far corner, near the boys' dormitory.

Blast it.

The blood rushed from my head to my toes when my eyes caught the glint of the lights off of his spectacles. In a burst of insanity, I could have sworn I felt the note that was hidden in my pocket thump against my thigh. Impulsively, my hand clamped down onto it. For a second, neither one of us moved. He still hadn't changed from his bright pink shirt, and even his cheeks were splashed with red, as if he'd just been outside in the cool wind. Godric, his hazel eyes were the death of me. Seeing as I was rooted to the floor, he decided to take a step forward, and I was instantly hit with raging nerves when I saw the cautiousness of his movements. From far away, somewhere in the depths of my curiosity, I wondered why he didn't say anything else. It felt like we'd been standing there for hours; in reality, it had probably only been two seconds.

My feet felt like they were made out of lead.

The way he was approaching me reminded me of old Muggle cop movies. Almost as if he were out to catch a suspect that he feared would bolt at any moment. He took another step.

And I did just that. My hamstrings grew taught, pulled back like a rubber band, and when they were so tight that my thighs began to cramp, they lunged; I found myself hurtling for the portrait hole as fast as I could go. I didn't slow down, even though no footsteps could be heard chasing me. Clearly, following psychotically, and revoltingly unobservant, women who ran at the sight of him wasn't a hobby of James Potter's. More obvious was the fact that I didn't need help from the Divination teacher to know that acting wasn't in my near future.

I made it to the far side of the common room, gasping for breath, and pushing aside the back of the Fat Lady's portrait to make it swing open faster. I tumbled out into the hallway in a dead sprint, so even if I had seen the group of boys standing there, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself. With a crushing blow, I slammed right into the hard body of a bloke.

He jumped when I screamed, and if it hadn't been for Remus who had held Sirius up, both of us would have ended up sprawled on the ground. "Merlin, Evans," Sirius declared, holding my arms in order to push me off of him, "I realize you're a fan and all, but you have got to stop yelling whenever you see us," he finished, appraising my flushed features with curious, dark eyes.

My pulse was still thumping against my throat, making it even harder for me to catch my breath. I stood there, clutching onto the front of Sirius Black's sweater, gasping. Too much of a coward, I kept my eyes focused on his chest, afraid of looking at any of them and seeing the expressions there. Despite my best efforts, I could still detect their awkward gazes, not quite knowing what to do with a crazy girl. The back of my neck itched uncomfortably.

"Erm…Evans, no offense, but you're stretching out my shirt," Sirius said uneasily, which was odd for him, being so poised and cool and such. It also irked me that I could feel his chest rumble with the sound of his deep voice that resounded through me. I quickly dropped my hands, nearly pushing him away in my haste. Sirius smoothed out the wrinkles I had made, his anxious gaze jumping from me to his friends. It was clear what he was thinking—_she's mental, mates._

Prolonging the moment when I would have to meet their accusatory stares, I concentrated on pushing my hair out of my face and tried to match my heartbeat with Peter's, who was closest to me now. As I worked on that, I began to think. And then it hit me. I'd literally run smack dab into the very person I'd been looking for. I sought out Remus first, my eyes roaming up his skinny frame, and then onto his pale, scarred face. Goosebumps shot up my arm.

His light irises observed me quietly for a minute, taking in my expression—whatever it looked like at the moment; he hesitated, on the balls of his feet, and then took a step closer. Sirius humphed annoyed in the background, probably upset that I had blown him off, considering the fact he'd been the one I'd barreled into. "You're not hurt, are you?" Remus asked.

"She _hit _me," Sirius complained, outraged.

I ignored him. "No, I-I—" I took a deep breath to stop my voice from stuttering. "I need to talk to you."

In a confused way, he shrugged his shoulders. "Alright." He turned his back on me, facing his friends now. "I'll meet up with you later."

They seemed to communicate without any words briefly; I kept my gaze focused on the slab of stone that was located behind Remus' head. When I heard Sirius and Peter finally tell the Fat Lady the password, I was suddenly overcome with a cloud of trepidation. We were alone. He _was _a werewolf, after all. Suddenly, confronting James seemed to be the easier option. I shook my head; Remus was Remus. It's not like he was going to bite me or anything. I laughed hysterically in the safety of my own head. No. Stop it, Lily. Didn't I trust James' judgment? For a second, my lungs stopped working at the thought of him, but then I felt a pair of eyes on my face.

I had to concentrate if I was going to keep myself together.

"What's up, Lily?" he asked conversationally, casually, as if he didn't have a care in the world. He was so _normal_…

And then the words just spilled from my mouth; Remus even jumped slightly at my sudden outpour. "I'm so sorry, Remus," I pledged. "So, so sorry. I'm such an awful friend, and—"

He held up his hand, palm forward—it was so big. Big hands. I barely repressed the image of long, lethal nails clawing their way out of them. It wasn't until then that I actually focused on his face, his aged features that were currently shrouded with confusion. My spiked reactions calmed a little. "Am I supposed to know what you're apologizing for?" he asked, a hint of a smile flickering across his face.

I shot a look around the hallway, before snatching up his wrist and towing him further down the corridor and around a corner. At least I had enough sense left to realize that this wasn't a conversation that should be overheard. There weren't as many lights here, in this crook, and the atmosphere made me feel rather jumpy. _Just Remus_, I told myself again. And when I looked at him, I couldn't see anyone else. He was just a bloke. Remus looked around the secluded area before staring at me with open curiosity. "Wow," he pointed out, "is it something that bad?"

Godric, he still thought he was the one who had done something wrong. He was too bloody selfless for his own good. That's probably why my words started flowing so much easier now, great torrents of them that continued relentlessly. "You didn't do anything," I clarified, "it's all me." His eyebrows pinched together in the center of his forehead, and I was set off again. "Merlin, Remus, I'm so _inattentive. _I was around you all the time, and all those times you were gone for your mum, I just—"

Remus snapped backwards slightly, and his expression changed in the time span it took to measure the length of one of my heartbeats—which was an incredibly small amount of time, considering the way my heart was flailing around and all. His face was dramatically different. There was no longer any life there. It was such a dead look, that it made me shiver uncontrollably once. "Oh," was all he was able to pop out at first. All I could do was gawk at him dazedly, caught off guard with how fast he'd transformed. "Well, that explains the screaming, at least."

It was my turn to be confused. "What?" I stuttered. "No, no, Remus, you've got it wrong—"

He snorted, his arms crossed.

That made me angry; he was acting as if he knew my head better than I did. "If anything," I fought back, "I screamed because of how close I was to Sirius, that's all." Surprisingly, my voice had sounded reasonably steady. Sometimes, when I was angry, I was able to think more clearly—my anger was hot enough to melt away any other conflicting emotions. And this was one of those times. Also, I couldn't help but feel a strong desire to set things right; the way his expression was so drawn, Merlin, it made my heart ache. I took a calming breath. "I feel absolutely wretched," I began again. "I should have been a better friend."

The silence was slightly unnerving, and it was probably my sick imagination that heard the subtle growling echoing off the cold walls. He was glaring at me now, his eyes narrowed so much that I could hardly make out the blue color that was normally there. "_You_ feel wretched?" he asked dubiously, his voice low.

Had I said something wrong? I didn't know the rules of etiquette when conversing with a werewolf. Gah. He was _not _a werewolf. Right now, he was just Remus. But the look on his face was so fierce, that I had to restrain myself from taking a step backwards. "God, Lily, do you hear yourself?"

Yes.

Wait.

Was that supposed to be a trick question?

I found myself glaring back defiantly.

"You're apologizing for something that's not your fault? Did you ever think that maybe you weren't _supposed _to find out?"

"Sorry," I snapped again, hands on my hips, reacting to his hostility.

"Stop it," he commanded, running his hand agitatedly through his hair.

"What?"

"Stop apologizing; it's making me feel worse."

Knowing the word that was on the tip of my tongue, I held my breath, my mouth firmly shut. We stared at each other, and when I still hadn't backed down, the lines in his face began to soften, as if he'd been frozen and someone had just turned up the thermostat. His eyes were still careful, however, withdrawn, like he was afraid to show me his hope. "Were you seriously apologizing?" he asked then, incredulous, yet I felt like he was mocking me, which kept me on the offensive.

"Did you not just hear everything I said?"

"This is kind of new to me."

"I can't be the first," I assumed, thinking of his friends.

Something dark flashed across his face then. "The first to _apologize_," he scorned.

"What about James, and Sirius, and Peter?" I countered back.

Finally, the corners of his mouth twitched slightly. "They threatened to hex me for keeping them out of the adventure."

Sounded like them.

Neither of us knew what to say next. I felt like he was waiting for something, perhaps waiting for me to run from him in fear. Taking such a deep breath that my lungs expanded painfully against my ribcage, I scrambled for the right words. "For the record," I started slowly, to make sure he'd understand, and to make sure I had my thoughts in order, "I won't tell anyone."

He watched me carefully, and I wasn't quite sure what he was thinking. Whatever he found in my face, he must have liked. Because his eyes finally returned to their normal lightness. "Well, for the record," he mimicked—we both grinned, "I never thought you were a bad friend," he finished lightly.

Bad friend. Thanks for the reminder. My pulse thudded. "Remus, I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to answer it honestly," I told him. Suddenly, he was hesitant again, and he shuffled like he was thinking about making a run for it. "Do you think I'm…unobservant?"

Laughing now, he answered, "Nah. James is just too good at secrecy for his own good."

I felt as if my brain had frozen. How had he known what I was talking about? "Merlin," I cried, "even you're good at reading people!" This was so unfair. I'd thought I'd always been a good people person. Now, to find out I might as well have been walking around with a book in front of my face, it was so depressing.

"Look," Remus said hastily at the distraught tenor in my voice, "we didn't even know, and we share a dormitory with him. It wasn't until I saw you with that letter in Diagon Alley that we finally realized what he was doing."

Huh. Well that did make me feel a smidge better. But still. Nodding so absent-mindedly that I wasn't even sure what I was agreeing to, I reached my hand into my pocket and pulled out the note I'd written earlier. Time to fulfill my other promise that I had made to myself. _Stupid perfection_, I thought savagely, but my heart leapt at the thought of James, as if it had sensed that it would be near him soon. My hands shook slightly as I held the folded parchment out to Remus. After staring at it as if it he'd just been presented with his N.E.W.T. results—his features somewhere stuck between exultation and apprehension—he reached out to touch the edge; both of us held onto either end.

"What's this?" he asked.

I dropped my hand, my heart hammering away. It felt oddly final to no longer have it attached to me, almost like I'd just handed off a piece of my soul into Remus' hands. Well, the stag was out of the wand now. I cleared my throat. "Fancy a job as a delivery owl?"

OO

Needless to say, sleep slipped to the bottom of my to-do list that night, more practical activities—like biting my fingernails to the stubs and eating enough chocolate to send me into a coma—moving up to overtake sleep's place. Of course, it could have been much worse. At least I wasn't the one who had to make the decision to go talk through this whole Prongs business. Imagine what my life would have been like if I'd had that weighing on my conscience. That's why I'd written the letter. It was up to him now; my only job was to wait for him.

Could I be any more of a coward?

Then again, I had another motive behind that plan of mine. I hadn't forgotten that James had been the one to stop that kiss, that _he'd _been the one to decide that we weren't ready. That made it seem as if he was unsure as well. It'd probably been because of his guilty conscience for stringing me along in the form of two different individuals. Regardless, it was his choice now.

But that didn't stop me from fretting around like a complete loon. I tried to keep myself busy, knowing that if I went to lie down in my bed I would have way too much time to think; right then, thinking wasn't such a good idea, unless I wanted no fingernails. So, I concentrated with just a bit too much enthusiasm on my Defense homework in the common room (you know, just in case James had been looking for me), and I ended up writing twice as much as I needed to about Patronuses—my topic: why stags were dangerous, tricky creatures who caused girls to fall in love with two different people, who both were really one person, without their knowledge or consent. Alright, so I lied about that last part, but our homework really did have to do with the Patronus charm—rumor was that was the next section we'd be studying.

All of that essay writing had only made me think of James, however, so I stopped re-reading it at once, shoving it away from me, scowling. I picked up my Potions' textbook instead.

Once that was done, I used my wand to de-lint my socks. With a flick of my wrist, I vanished the wool shavings, and then it was back to staring helplessly around the room, gnawing at my fingers, wondering why James had not come to find me yet.

"Lily!"

It took a split moment for my heart to figure out that it hadn't been the deep, and slightly sarcastic voice, I'd been waiting for.

Oh, no. I should have gone to bed.

Mary, her face glowing happily, flung herself down beside me. Why hadn't I calculated her into my night? Darn Will—that boy should have kept her out later. He was going to need a good talking to. I glanced at her wearily, and she was smiling at me knowingly. She leaned towards me on her knees. "So," she started suggestively.

"So, what?" I asked.

"How was it?"

Maybe, if I played dumb, she would get fed up with me. Or, perhaps if I acted bored, she would lose interest in thinking there was an interesting story to hear. I went with both. "How was what?" I retorted in such a bored tone that I swear caused a second year behind me to yawn.

She rolled her eyes, seeing right through my act. I busied myself by tossing all of my quills, books, and papers into a haphazard pile. "I saw you holding his hand," she half-giggled. "Tell me everything."

And that was when I excused myself and fled up the stairs. By the time she decided to follow me, I already had my bed hangings drawn securely. That was how I finally found myself in bed, staring morosely at the ceiling. Now how would James find me? Merlin, my life sucked. A slight buzzing sound was swarming around in my head, like a group of bees was stuck in there, stinging me over and over again with thoughts that I didn't particularly want to think about: What was James doing now? Had Remus given him my note? Why had I run from Mary? _What was my problem_?

I tried to concentrate on the sound of the water running from the faucet now, allowing the _swish, swish, swish _of Mary's toothbrush lull me into a non-thinking consciousness. My eyes were closed as if willing the night fairy to come and flip my lights out already. I punched my pillow, irritated that I couldn't fall asleep even though I must have been incredibly exhausted from the day's events. The water was still on and I presumed that Mary must have gotten in the bath. All of the wet noises began to make me feel as if I were on a boat, my head swimming in and out, bobbing on top of the wake. Even my body began to feel as if it were rocking swiftly back and forth. Back and forth.

Eventually, the waves drifted me off to unconsciousness.

Sunday passed in a nail-biting blur of anxiousness and guilt. The anxiety was brought on by the fact that James didn't approach me once during the entirety of the day. And I'd seen him plenty of times; at breakfast, in the halls, even on the way to the girls' loo on my way back from the library, for Merlin's sake. Every time we crossed paths, he acted as if he hadn't seen me by throwing himself into a mindless discussion with whoever happened to be nearby; I'd even seen him ask the caretaker what model of broom he used for sweeping. Clearly, James was either incredibly desperate for dull conversations, or he really never noticed me, which I just couldn't believe; he definitely saw me. I could tell. Because each instance, without fail, his eyes would dart to my face and his feet would shuffle a centimeter in my direction before he would seek out some helpless bystander with whom he could start up a friendly little chat.

Was he trying to kill me? I wondered with dark amusement if he somehow knew how my chest flipped out every time I saw his bloody-freakin' beautiful face. If he could, he must have enjoyed it thoroughly, because it happened enough. Eventually, the anxiety began to turn into anger—I mean, was he just completely ignoring my note? It was just plain rude—and then it settled into an anguish that nearly knocked the breath out of me—clearly, he no longer was interested.

None of that was what triggered my guilt, however—though, it had plenty of reason to; I _was _the one who had chickened out first, so I supposed I had no right to judge James so harshly. No, what caused me all of the guilt was the fact that neither Emmeline nor Mary was talking to me. Mary made me feel the worse, though, seeing as Emmeline was only mad at me for calling her out on her unjust prejudice towards Remus; see, Mary had found out about Prongs' identity through Em, and she considered it nothing less than base treachery that I hadn't been the one to tell her first. ("I don't know why you and Emmeline never tell me anything," she had accused that morning, "I am perfectly capable of being reasonable!")

Thus, Sunday I spent most of the day wallowing inside of my own head, which was a dangerous place to reside at the moment.

It wasn't until the late afternoon when I was finally dragged—if only for two brief moments—from the nervous, grief-stricken monotone of my day.

I decided to apologize to Mary. I hated fighting with my friends, and I needed to get rid of this guilt. But that wasn't what distracted me from my worrying obsession, and, yes, I had learned that the act of worrying could become an obsession. Nevertheless, my apology wasn't what shattered the monotone. Not even close.

"Lily," Mary said after my pleading apology, "I wasn't mad about being kept out of the secret—I already _knew _who Prongs was—I was angry that you didn't tell me."

My world basically exploded around me, great chunks of Lily flying around the atmosphere, knocking out any of my previous knowledge of how the universe functioned. I was hyperventilating. "Wait," I gasped, clutching at her sleeve, "Wait." It took me a complete ten seconds to find my voice again. "You…_knew_?" For the love of Gryffindor, I was more pathetic that I had originally thought. Mary? Mary McDonald? The girl who usually lived in her fantasies had figured it out before me? I wondered if it was possible for a person to shatter, or if the vibrations rolling down my body were part of my imagination.

She shrugged in an innocent way. "Only since the werewolf footprint fiasco."

It took extreme difficulty to figure out how to close my mouth. What was even more difficult was keeping myself from screaming. "You knew about Remus too?" I shrieked, grateful that no one was around. She nodded carefully, watching my face, which had been losing more and more of its color at each new discovery Mary was hurling at me. "But you—you never—you didn't _act_ like you knew."

"You and Em would have noticed if I just lost interest in the Prongs mystery," she explained, "and I couldn't very well talk to Emmeline about it, seeing as she went completely bonkers when I defended werewolves—" she must have caught the incredulous expression on my face; she hurriedly continued—"and I couldn't tell you, either, because you would have wanted to know how I found out, and I wasn't about to tell you Remus' secret without his consent, of course."

"Of course," was all I could force my brain to come up with.

On the way down to dinner an hour later, I was still trying to mull everything over, and it did make a little bit more sense that Mary had found out about Remus' werewolf dilemma first out of the three of us. Apparently, she'd pieced together the evidence in fourth year and had confronted Remus without a second thought—which was so typically Mary. What, with all of the novels she had read, she was bound to pick up on the clues that other _normal_ people couldn't. People like me, and the rest of the dull-witted school population. Then, of course, when we'd figured out the werewolf footprint on the emblem, she'd been able to narrow Prongs down to James. Ingenious. And it only made me feel all the more stupid. Well, at least it had pulled my teeth away from the skin left around my nails for a while.

Dinner was uneventful—in the James department anyway—but I now had my new fascination at Mary's story to numb the pain when James shot me a look and then busied himself with cutting up his steak. And, then, something happened that sent a surge of dizzying satisfaction through my head. Really, it wasn't even anything major. Nobody else even took notice to it, except for Mary, me, and Remus and his mates. It was just one little request. But it was enough for me. With tight shoulders, Emmeline asked, in a perfectly polite voice, "Remus, can you pass me the salt?"

Though he jumped in surprise and ended up knocking over the salt shaker in question, he attempted to control the grin that threatened to engulf his entire face. Perhaps he didn't want to freak her out so soon and was trying to play it cool, or maybe he was hesitant with buying into Emmeline's new kind persona. Nevertheless, as he quickly snatched up the condiment, he shot a look at me, his eyes gladly bewildered. There was hope in this scenario yet. Inwardly, I couldn't help but grin; maybe my words had done some good to her. It was a start, at least. Like Remus, I attempted to pass off her abnormal behavior. So did she. As normal as anything, she continued to eat, but not before shooting a tight grin in my direction. I took that as a sign of truce.

So, at the end of the night, everything seemed to be back to normal.

Except for that whole Prongs-James thing.

My stomach flipped and then plummeted.

Maybe he wasn't ready to come to me. It frightened me that I felt like sobbing into my pillow.

By the time Monday morning rolled around, I'd given up on expecting anything. Blokes were stupid anyways. I should have just stuck to my no boys until I was married rule; it would have saved me from all of this emotional stress. Heck, I should have just bought myself a pet, an owl. _Stop_. Thinking of owls wasn't going to do me any good whatsoever.

I glowered at my desk as our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor prattled on about the likelihood of the Patronus Charm showing up on our exams at the end of this year—something about Dementors being more prevalent in this war, and the Ministry thought that the graduating students should be better prepared. To hell if I was really concentrating on the lesson. It wasn't my fault I was too preoccupied with trying to stop my gut from jumping every time he said the bloody P word. Mary had a grip on my wrist, keeping me from tapping my pencil distractedly against my chair. To my right, Emmeline was glaring at the back of James' head.

"So, according to these notes, you were taught the basics of this charm last year," our Professor noted, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, "Let's pair up and see what we've got."

Groaning just because I could, I turned slowly in my chair to pair myself up with Mary. One second, I had a view of her blond curls, and the next thing I knew I was staring into a pair of hazel eyes. Somehow, quite swiftly, he had somehow appeared there, as if he'd just Apparated from across the room. I gasped in the surprise of his abruptness, my hand nearly toppling over my pot of ink. Expertly, he grabbed it, setting it up right, and then he placed his hand over mine. I cursed at myself as goose bumps erupted there. Silently, because my ability to speak seemed to have deserted me, I gaped at him.

"I want you to be my partner," he said smoothly.

Perhaps he'd finally received my letter.

Suddenly, I no longer could feel the gazes of Emmeline and Mary on my back. It was only him. My head felt wobbly, like I'd just missed a step going down a staircase. All I could do was nod. "Okay," I replied in a daze.

If I had ever taken a break from all of my worrying to think about how I would react when he did approach me, I wouldn't have thought this. I thought I would have been all geared up to let him have it. How dare you trick me like that, and all of the jazz. But now, following him as he maneuvered us through the jumble of students who were bickering over partners, I couldn't quite recall why I would have been angry with him in the first place. The stubborn side of my personality slapped me around the brain. Sure, he'd written letters to me with a false name, and yeah, he hadn't been completely honest, but he hadn't deceived me. Not really. I'd been the one that, over and over again, tuned out the hints he had basically handed out on a silver platter. And, in both accounts, he'd always been genuine. It had always been him. I'd been the thick-skulled one who'd gone and fallen for them both.

Right?

My hand twitched as if to reach out and grab his hand at the same time my heart started to dance wildly.

We sat down opposite each other. I hoped my chest wasn't heaving unnaturally from my deep breaths. As we sat there, in the midst of a classroom where constant shouts of "_Expecto Patronum_" rang around us, I scrambled for something to say. He just watched me, observing my face like it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. I couldn't imagine why—what, with the way my forehead was beginning to sweat and the red heat that had flushed my cheeks at the sound of his voice, I was pretty sure I wasn't that attractive to look at.

Fascinated with him and relieved that he hadn't ditched me, I watched as he spun his wand between his fingers as if he wasn't even aware he was doing it. Finally, he stood up, keeping our eyes locked. "I'll go first, then," he volunteered.

Er. What? Oh, lessons. Oops. I'd forgotten we were in class. "Good luck," I heard myself mutter. At least, it sounded like my voice, though I didn't have any recollection of ever opening my mouth.

He continued to scan my face, like he'd be able to reach into my mind if he stared hard enough—and maybe he could; after all, he and Prongs had always seemed to know my odd, little quirks—and then, as if he had really just heard my thoughts, his jaw set as he clenched his teeth. Whatever had just taken place inside of _his_ head, he wasn't turning back now. I recognized that look; it was the look I often had after I'd made up my mind about something that had been bugging me for days: determined and too stubborn to look back.

As I watched him stretch his wand arm out in front of him, my lungs started to ache, and I realized that I had been holding my breath. How odd. Then again, just the fact that I was panting after him was weird enough. I tried to clear my thoughts. He made a short jab motion with his wand, just for practice, and then I understood. Well, I supposed I'd known he was going to do the Patronus, but—_Prongs._ My eyes widened, taking in his stance. His eyes were closed, concentrating. I didn't know I had been clutching the edges of my seat until my arms started to tingle.

His shout rang out above all the others, though it hadn't been any louder.

A brilliant, pure white animal burst from the tip of his wand and landed gracefully a foot away. It raised its handsome head, its antlers nearly reaching to James' collarbone. The muscles on that creature were like nothing I'd ever seen before, its shoulder blades round, contracting perfectly as it pawed the ground. With such a majestic movement that it would have put the most magical creature to shame, it turned its face towards me. I stared back.

_And, as a secret between you and me, my Patronus happens to be a stag._

Everyone in the class had grown silent, all of their eyes directed to the space where the splendid protector stood, now prancing gracefully, almost as if it were floating (well, I supposed it was, seeing as it was a charm) to James' side. They were the most beautiful pair I'd ever seen.

_James Prongs._

And then it disappeared.

Our professor began to clap, exclaiming his joy and surprise, but I didn't register a word of it. My world had been turned on mute. Even though I was sitting, my legs felt unstable, so I grabbed the table for extra support just in case.

My eyes—still frozen wide—sought out James.

* * *

_  
Sorry for the cliffhanger...again. I swear, I don't do that intentionally. It just kind of works out that way. The next chapter though will be the one you've all been waiting for probably since the beginning of this story. Hehe. It will be the last official chapter, but there will be another one after that which will kind of finish it all off nicely. I'm playing around with a few different things though, which will change how the final epilogue type chapter turns out. One of my thoughts that I had was a sequel to this story (but I've never really done a sequel before), but it would be about Lily and James's growing relationship, and another penpal situation in which Severus decides that letters are a better way to win Lily over. This is all just thoughts, though, because I'm still playing around with my Twilight idea, so nothing's final yet. But tell me what you think. _

_As always, thank you so much for reading this chapter, and I hope you liked it. Please, please, please leave me a review if you have time. Because, I'm so close to having 700 hundred reviews, and 7 is my favorite number. Usually, I don't like to beg for reviews, but sometimes I'm slightly OCD, especially when it comes to numbers, in particular the number 7. Example--I always set my alarm to a time with the digit 7, like 8:47, or 7:07. Wow, I'm a freak. But you get my point. Er. Well, at least I hope you get it, otherwise you're probably staring at this screen thinking I'm completely insane. Which, I might be, but whatever. What's life without a little bit of insanity?_

_Anyways, I hope to have this story done before I leave for school, so that gives me a good three weeks. It will happen people. I'm determined. Thanks again for reading!!! _

_Have an awesome week. And to those of you who are starting up school again--I hope you have interesting classes and nice, sympathetic teachers who won't pile on the homework!_

_--HeyLookTheSnitch_


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **_It's a good thing that I'm not JK Rowling, because my publisher would be extremely mad at me right now for disappearing off the face of the earth for four months without so much as a postcard. And this is why I shall never be a published author._

**A/N:** _I'm a rude, inconsiderate author, so it's a good thing the world has people as awesome as you to balance horrible people like me out. Thanks to: Jasper winked, softballer1990, AsItThunders, IheartZacharyGoode, BACswimma, plzkthx101, pea blue, LyLMystikeLf, FollowThisRhythm, luunasonshine, CluainnFhada, Percabeth95, SicilyRoyalty, twinklewind, loyalreader, tanktutu, Mellanie Black, Artfull Dodger, HorribleHolly, WalkingOnSonshine, LazyLibra, sunstone-dono, Avidreadr, -Lost In The Stars-, , Moogley, A Morning Star, milly, Anon, aragorn is mine, A-Lady, phantasmagoria .x., Butterfly1989, Demitria 837, Alex507, wolfgirl111, jasmineflower27, Magical Singer Gal, XxX-SparklingEyes-XxX, sophiascribbles, Katie, Coloring the Sky, Shino Kouba, Pyromaniac-Girl, MissDreamy, stormysky, Amehh, Tyem Marodyor, RainingRain, moony391, Jessiquie, DanceDiva, Kiley 1 09, Greenwich Girl, Zaziness, Adosia, blah248, bookworm2butterfly, CC Chels, angelofmynightmare, ElvendorkLuVer, Justine, alesiiiiiitaaa, SparklyVamp, Lucykevinfan, Kiara Avalon, EdwardsLily, muddy worm, cannotstopwriting, princess sana, pippiboo, FallingForFootie, coffee dessert, bealen, x-Nimue-x, theXblueXcray0n, Ali Keys, CL7, ellesra, ..Wannabe., zozotheterrible, ProngsLover, Whisperheart, HerGoldenWings, clap your hands say Claire, Vampires and Penguins, Amethyst-Heart, The Travelling Pants, N7 Space Marine, Randomisation,and last but certainly not least, SoManyObsessions. You guys are amazing, and if it weren't for your threats/reviews, this chapter most definitely would never have been completed. So, applaud yourselves and thank each other. You are the reason this story was completed. _

_I don't have an excuse as to why I was MIA for so long. I'm going to school overseas this year, but I can't even blame the time change. Sadly, I had extreme writer's block; ideas wouldn't come, and anything I tried to force was just plain aweful. I probably have about five different copies of this chapter, every one of them different. I spent an incredible amount of time on this chapter, and I hope it shows...with that sad, I hate writing endings. I'm not good at them. I just can't find a way to make it all feel complete. So, in all honesty, I was dreading writing this chapter, which probably help explains why it took so long to be posted. Isn't it funny how people say they don't have an excuse but then proceed to list off about four of them. Oh, my life..._

_And, yes, this is the last chapter of Penmanship Smitten. I'm so thrilled to finally be done with this story; I've worked for over a year on this thing, and I'm proud that I've finally finished it. Thanks for sticking with me on this incredibly, inconsistent, and bumpy journey. Stick around after the chapter to read further bamblings from me. You know you want to. ;)_

_Here's a quick recap since it's been so long: In chapter 13, Lily finally figured out the truth about Prongs by consulting her letters and pounding Emmeline with questions until she finally cracked. Lily also found out about Remus's "Moony" condition and confronted him about it, thus ending up giving Remus a letter from her to give to James. This letter said, quite simply, "Come to me." However, James failed to act for the entire weekend, causing Lily to go into a state of extreme panic. Come Monday afternoon, she wasn't expecting anything, but that's when James went and surprised her again. He produced his Patronus and Lily nearly fainted with wonder. And, there ya go. That's where this chapter will pick up._

_Happy reading!_

* * *

**Chapter 14: Story of the Doe and the Stag**

_Then you come crashing in  
Like the realest thing__  
__Trying my best to understand  
All that your love can bring_

_Oh, half of my heart's got a grip on the situation__  
__Half of my heart takes time  
Oh, I've never been so wrapped up, honey  
I like the way you're everything I ever wanted_

_I had time to think it all over  
And all I can say is come closer,  
Take a deep breath and jump  
Then fall into me_  
--John Mayer, Half of My Heart; Taylor Swift, Jump Then Fall

* * *

It was funny to think about how, an hour earlier, I'd been so afraid of _him_ ditching _me_; yet, here I was, ditching him.

For some explanation that not even I could come up with, I found myself standing in the middle of some deserted classroom on the seventh floor alone, breathing hard. After all, I wasn't in any kind of athletic shape and I had just bolted from the Defense lesson, wanting to beat the mad rush of students before the bell rang. To be honest, I actually did have a perfectly good explanation as to why I'd broken my yearly jogging schedule to run throughout the halls of Hogwarts; I had wanted—no, needed—to get away from James Potter and his ability to pull my heart strings in order to just recollect myself, and it frustrated me. I had originally believed that I had thought enough about this, had taken enough time to pull my thoughts about James being Prongs together into a comprehensive plan for action.

But after seeing him with Prongs—I felt like I'd been torn into two. The new Lily who wanted a boy, and the old Lily who was still afraid of letting go.

I'd never felt this way about anyone before—any man—in my life. The two of them together—the two boys who had accomplished what no other could—had blown me away. They had been so…_perfect _together. So perfect, in fact, that the emotions it had built inside of me had frightened me enough that I had scampered away from him.

I'd wanted him.

And it had scared me.

Yet I hadn't expected to run away. But I'd gotten used to realizing that I usually acted differently than what I had expected when it came to James Potter and Prongs. So, I suppose this idea of mine to hide away in a deserted classroom shouldn't have surprised me. And what if he thought he'd made a mistake by showing me? Perhaps he'd figured out that I wasn't what he wanted after all, which was a pity, really, seeing as I was emotionally ready to want him; at least that hadn't changed—my fondness towards him—because if there had been one worry that I hadn't wanted to admit even to myself, it was that I was afraid that finding out James was Prongs would ruin everything. The worry I'd never thought about was how his feelings might have changed towards me after showing me Prongs.

I also never thought about how hard it was going to be for me to tell him that I wanted him.

My eyes wandered helplessly around the dimly-lit room; there were a few desks shoved up against the walls, a bookcase, and a quiet so silent that I could hear my own ridiculously loud breaths. Since I had nothing better to do than think about things that would depress me—like James changing his mind which left me oddly breathless—I walked over to the bookcase and looked at the selection. They were all thick volumes that seemed to deal with some lesson of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and ironically enough, the Patronus charm. Oh, James. Merlin, what were the odds that I would choose this classroom? Angrily, I chucked one of the books into the corner where it landed with a thud and fell open. As I stared at, I began to feel guilty about damaging the innocent book and embarrassed that I was reacting this way because of a boy. What had come over me? Stupid, beautiful James Potter always screwed up my personality disorders.

The book had fallen open to a page that was entitled, "What's Your Patronus?"

I laughed darkly; I couldn't bloody well create a Patronus, so how I was I supposed to know?

It took a split second for me to pull out my wand from my pocket as I desperately searched my mind for a happy memory. Family, friends, Hogwarts. Nothing seemed to work, and I quickly became frustrated with myself as the only result I obtained from my stress was that stupid spray of white smoke. And I wasn't even practicing with a threat at hand, as a Dementor sucked the happiness from me. What would become of me then when I couldn't even do it in an empty classroom where I was as safe as could be? I was smart. I should be able to do this.

I mumbled an obscenity under by breath as a puff of white fog floated from my wand. Sweat began to gather on my palms, causing my wand to become slippery. So concentrated was I that I didn't even hear the door open, so when a voice called out my name, I jumped, tripping over the book that I'd thrown on the floor and landing on my buttocks rather painfully. My wand clattered to my feet.

That's karma, my friends.

"Lily?" James asked again in a shocked manner upon seeing me on the ground as he walked into the room. I silently cursed myself, scrambling to my feet and brushing off my hands in the most dignified manner I could manage. Blimey, I wouldn't blame him for not wanting me. I watched him as his eyes switched from my disarray state to the door, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. I wanted to slap him across the face for looking so adorable.

He swung his face back towards me, stuffing a brown piece of parchment into his robes. "But—" he paused. "I didn't _see _you…"

Like I had a clue what he was talking about. Did I ever? So, I said nothing, turning my back on him and picking up the book that I'd fallen over. I could feel his gaze on my back, and it seemed to burn me, sending a warmth through my blood that caused me to shiver. Merlin, did the imbecile not know that I wished to be alone? I wouldn't blame him if he didn't, actually, because I didn't even know exactly why I wanted to be. Any normal girl would have prayed to Merlin to be in my position—the guy that she liked chasing after her—but, I'd already accepted that I wasn't a normal girl.

For some reason, his presence irritated me to no end. Perhaps it had something to do with the way my body seemed to want to run at him while my mind wanted to think things over before making a move.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously, and my heart jumped at how close he was. What a betrayal. Curse you, heart of mine.

"Practicing," I answered rather boldly, considering I felt like touching his chest and kicking him in the shins all at the same time.

He maneuvered himself around me so that he was facing me again, and he pulled the book from my grasp before I could prevent it. "_Expecto Patronum_?" The corners of his lips twitched slightly, as if his mouth was about to explode into a smirk. He stared at me as if he'd just realized he'd gotten an Outstanding when he'd though he'd failed. It made me feel uneasy.

"Yes, now give it back."

I snatched the book back.

His hazel orbs were examining me teasingly, as if he knew I had some hidden words that I wanted to throw at him. Oh, if only he knew. And maybe he did. It was him, after all. "So…" James said expectantly, taking a loud step forward.

In response to his advancement, I stumbled backwards, my wand out. "Your voice is breaking my concentration," I told him distractedly, trying to remember the happy memory I'd been working with earlier. But it was hard. His breaths seemed to match the pattern of my heart.

His footsteps echoed off of the stone walls of the circular room as he approached me, causing a lump to jump to my throat with each beat. "Really?" he asked in mock curiosity, "I thought it would help," he finished seriously. He stopped half a foot in front of my face, and that anxiety lump finally lodged itself in my esophagus, cutting off my breath. "You need a happy memory," he continued.

I struggled to find my vocal chords. "What does that have to do with—?"

"Lily," he began with a laugh even though his eyes were intent on mine, "do you still like me?"

My heart thudded once, stopped, and then began to sprint across my chest. I could only gape at him wordlessly as I attempted to quell the heat that had instantly flashed up my neck to my cheeks at his inquisition. His eyes were darker than normal, I noticed, as if they'd retreated into his brain, and every time he blinked his dark lashes cast shadows across his cheekbones. And then somehow my hand had found his, had wrapped themselves around his fingers as if on its own accord. I stared at our hands in embarrassing horror, then to his face, and then to the ground once I saw the grin there. For a split second, as I examined the pattern that the floor made and felt James' fingers knead gently into my hand, things felt _right._ The touch of him was just as naturally comforting as it had been in Hogsmeade.

I quickly dropped his hand, suddenly feeling self-conscious and—just as quickly—a surge of unexplainable displeasure crashed over me. I felt like flinging myself at him again. We stared at each other, and a thought occurred to me then. I needed him. I just wasn't quite sure on how to go about telling him that, because it sounded lame even inside of my own head; it made me feel a vulnerability that I'd never experienced before.

"You told me you couldn't produce a Patronus?" I accused instead.

"You told me you didn't want to know who Prongs was," he reminded me.

My eyes narrowed as I glanced up from the floor to peer at him anxiously. "You're Prongs?" I clarified, though it came out sounding like a question. He nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as if he'd thought about moving closer but had stopped himself. "Huh," I found myself saying before I reached out to touch his wrist lightly, trailing my index finger across his palm as if it'd been pulled there by some divine _Accio_ charm. And though I felt like berating my hand again for betraying me, when I looked at him, something clicked; Prongs was real, standing here with me, and I was fighting it. Why?

_Why_?

Our eyes locked. "You don't want me to be," he wondered.

_No, I mean yes—I mean, I want you to be, _I felt like saying, as if we were in some predictable Muggle, teenage romance film. I tried to find the right words inside of my brain, tried to rearrange them so they would make sense, but my blush kept them securely away from my mouth. I felt too insecure to unleash my feelings I was having to him. I'd never wanted to be the corny girl: the one who made pathetic exclamations of affection just to try to get a date in order to feel needed. "Well," I began slowly, giving myself time to think about my response. "You're better than Sirius."

His eyes lightened as if he were a child who'd just bought his wand for the first time. And perhaps he didn't need the typical words for declarations; he just needed the right ones.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he responded, chuckling. His eyes glanced to my lips, which caused my head to feel as if it were on runaway broomstick—scared and queasy—and I wondered if he was thinking about our almost-kiss, just like I was. As I watched his features anxiously, I suddenly had a strong desire to run and glue my feet to the floor at the same time. He picked up my wand-hand, then, so that both of us had a hold on it.

"So, what was your memory?" he asked out of the blue. It was so random, that it took me a moment to figure out what he was talking about. I mean, I was grateful for the change of subject from my affection towards him to a Patronus, and once again I was struck with how well James seemed to know all of my odd quirks. But, it left me dissatisfied that he hadn't done anything, hadn't told me that he wanted me too.

Godric, I didn't even know what I wanted.

I had to scramble my thoughts back up from my scattered brain to remember it. Thinking about Hogsmeade and his lips, and his breath on _my_ lips, left me wonderfully shaken. "The Christmas before Hogwarts, when my entire family was together," I nearly stuttered.

He dropped my hand and my wand. "That's an event, right?"

I nodded absent-mindedly, frowning at his hand that was no longer covering mine.

"I find it easier," he began, as he walked around me, stopping at my back so that I could feel his breath on my neck; I couldn't stop the goosebumps from erupting down my spine, "if my memory is an _emotion_ that made me happy, not just an event." And he immediately wrapped his arm around the right side of my body, trapping my wand arm to my side, and placed his palm lightly against my chest so that it was just a flutter of a touch. "An emotion that changed me here."

My heart began to pump ecstatically and rather embarrassingly against his hand as he pressed into it, as if it were trying to jump out to greet him too. With each beat, a different memory came to me—the excitement of finding a boy that I actually wanted to be close with, the comfort of his hand in mine in Hogsmeade, how my heart had expanded and yearned to be with him at the sight of him and Prongs, the peace I had with James even when he was crossing the boundaries I'd drawn up around myself.

"James," I breathed, feeling his hand rise and fall with each inhale and exhale, "get away from me."

I felt his hand stiffen, felt the absence of his warm breath against my neck as he sucked in a hiss of air. "Now," I emphasized.

As soon as his arm unwound from me, I raised my wand into the air with a flick before this feeling within me could fade. "_Expecto Patronum_," I practically bellowed.

Something beautiful and white exploded from the tip of my wand and floated to the ground a good distance from me. One of its four slender, yet powerful, legs rose about to take a step forward, and it's short tail twitched as its two ears flickered and pointed upwards, sensing us. Just as the brightness faded, and I could make out the animal, its shape began to waver. As if by instinct, I reached my arms towards it, trying to catch it before it disappeared. Less than a second later, she faded in a puff of white mist.

It had been a doe.

My heart swelled.

James and I were a match.

OO

Holding hands with James Potter was something that I would never get used to; though, of course, I hoped I would get used to it eventually, because that would mean it would have happened more than enough. Then again, it did make me feel slightly out of balance, like someone had transformed my legs into jelly, but—

Oh, what was I doing?

Here I was, finally walking alongside James Potter—well, actually, it was more like he was dragging along a useless lump because I was still too busy marveling over the fact that my Patronus had taken the shape of a female deer—and I was contemplating how many times I would be able to touch his bloody fingers before my old-non girlie self resurfaced. This was so not like me. Then again, James did have the tendency to turn my preconceived notions about myself upside down. While Prongs had altered me emotionally, James had changed me physically; he had made me begin to develop certain urges, a need to touch him and feel the electric bolt that jolted through my veins, feelings that I had never had before.

And now James and his alter ego were one.

I was irreversibly different.

I could actually confirm that I was a girl now.

But right now, with him, I wasn't worried that Emmeline and Mary would mirthlessly tease me to no end. Everything felt balanced, in its place, like I was _meant _to be here with him. Nevertheless, my heart was still pumping like the wings of a Hippogriff after my Patronus experience and I was having trouble regaining basic functions, like moving my feet. And for the love of Merlin, this fire that seemed to be raging throughout my limbs was driving me absolutely insane. The tiny hairs on my arms stood up, almost as if they were reaching out to him, as he sat us down by the lake outside in the school grounds. Well, at least there was water nearby if I happened to just randomly combust into flames.

Our knees brushed against each other as we sat cross-legged on the grass; his hands played with my fingers, leaving them pleasantly tingling. "So," he said, watching me with a hint of a smug smile, "your Patronus is a female counterpart to mine."

"Shut up," I retorted, pinching him in the thumb. "It had nothing to do with you whatsoever."

I wasn't convinced that James had personally had a hand in forming the shape my Patronus took—after all, I refused to believe that a boy could have changed me that significantly—yet, I knew he'd had a part in helping me produce it. Seeing that the two were pairs, my doe and his stag, had given me renewed confidence. Prongs and I had fit together intellectually; James and I had been physically compatible. And now our protectors, our inner-beings, belonged together. Seeing the two together had finally made up my bipolar mind.

I'd never given much thought into fate, but it felt like James had always been meant for me. It had just taken me six years of time to realize it.

James shook his head, the wind mussing up his hair even more that it already naturally was, his eyes bright. "Think what you want, Lily."

But just because my body and my mind were combined in their goal to get my words to admit my feelings to James didn't mean I'd overcome my fear of taking that step. My brain fumbled over his innocent statement, reading too much into it. What _did_ I want? I wanted him; I knew that. But telling him—it was hard to go against the person I thought I'd been for seventeen years. I watched him as he turned his head to look out across the lake, observing the strong line of his jaw and wondering why I found it so hard to tell him how I felt. "You know," he began, "I'm surprised you took the Prongs revelation so easily."

_Because it made sense_, I thought to myself,_ I liked you both_. "Well, I do have some questions," I replied instead, observing the grass beneath us.

Unaware of my inner coward-complex, he just smiled. "Naturally."

I took that as an invitation to begin. "Why were you so awful to me last year?"

It took him a few seconds to think it over; I could see it on his face. The way his jaw clenched and his eyebrows furrowed together. "Well, to be honest, when I started this I didn't even think about what would happen when you figured it out—" He paused. "I don't think I really planned on using Prongs to get to you." He must have seen the dubious, doubtful look on my face. "I really didn't intend for it to get so out of hand," James explained, "it's just that when you wrote me back, and you had even seemed flirty—"

My back stiffened on instinct of the assumption. "—I had not!"

"—there seemed to be a girl in you yet," he said, ignoring me by giving my hand a squeeze. "At least you could open up to Prongs."

I was a bit miffed about his flirtatious comment, because I hadn't been, and I didn't like the thought of me being flirty. It seemed too frilly for my liking, and it made me angry that I couldn't get past that. "You haven't answered my question."

He sighed deeply. "Sometimes, guys are just idiots, Lily. I was upset that you liked Prongs more than me, even though we were the same person. And I figured that if you would take a guy you never met over me, I had no chance. I guess I also hoped that if I backed off, you'd come to me."

"Well, that was stupid," I muttered, even though I knew his plan had worked. I had been extremely confused by his attitude, even hurt. I'd taken any opportunity last year to cross paths with him to see if he reacted in that same detached, rude way. I glanced at his face, and I swear James smiled like he had just heard everything I'd thought inside of my head. "I have another one," I said, switching the focus. "Your friends didn't want me to know," I stated.

His hands froze momentarily on top of mine. "No, not really."

"Why?"

It was silent for a second, except for our breaths and the chilly wind, as James stared at me pensively. "We made up the Marauders as a secret between us," he answered, and I could tell by how slowly he chose his words that he was choosing his answer very carefully. My curiosity sparked as James' expression became more at ease and his words flowed more smoothly; I felt like I was missing something important. "We didn't want the school to know," he continued with more gusto, "we thought the mystery of it would take people's minds off of the evil happening outside the castle, although Sirius claims it was to keep McGonagall off our backs," he said, grinning fondly. "They especially didn't want you to find out, because you were a Prefect and so intent on doing a good job; they thought for sure you'd turn us in."

I tried to ignore my suspicion; I was probably throwing things majorly out of proportion, again, and it would only drive me away from him. "Well, I'm glad they think so highly of me," I stated sarcastically. "What are their code names anyways, Prongs?" I asked, not able to stop the smile as I finally addressed him.

"Sirius is Padfoot, Peter is Wormtail, and Remus is Moony," James answered, as if those names had been a part of him since birth.

I thought about that for a while, thinking over everything he'd told me, everything I'd deduced from the letters, all the truths I'd learned since then. The dog print must be Padfoot and Wormtail's the rat. Ha. A rat Patronus; for some reason, that was really amusing to me. And then something hit me. "How did you four learn the Patronus charm when you were fifteen?" I asked incredulously.

James paused instantly, the space between his eyebrows crinkling in confusion. "What?"

There was too much confusion in his tone of voice. "The names and the animal footprints—that Stag is clearly yours, seeing as it's your Patronus…" I trailed off as I saw the befuddlement continuing to take place on his face, and I instantly knew what had been bugging me since he'd brought up his friends. My expression fell doubtful. "I thought they were Patronuses."

His eyes flickered from my face, to the lake, to our intertwined hands. "Oh. Patronus," he nodded, "yeah, that's it."

My eyes narrowed at his obvious fib. It was too easy to read that look of his; I'd been doing it for years. Knowing when he'd done something wrong was an area I excelled in. "You're lying to me."

He held his breath as he looked at me. "I can't tell you, Lily," he exhaled, one of his hands grabbing mine a little bit too hard, squashing my fingers together.

"Would Prongs tell me?" I retorted.

"No. He wouldn't."

If he thought I was going to give this up—"Remus' is a werewolf print, because he is one—"

My hand instantly grew cold from the frosty air as his hands dropped mine and went to his forehead curled up into fists. "But that's hardly _illegal_, Lily."

I choked on the gulp of air that got stuck in my throat. Everything seemed to shut down. My brain functions, my blood flow, even my ears were ringing. "Illegal?" I questioned slowly. My mouth felt uncomfortably parched, like sand paper. I desperately wanted to laugh it off, because I knew he couldn't be serious, but then I saw him. His mouth popped open slightly, and he shut his eyes tightly, cursing himself underneath his breath.

Illegal…?

Illegal! Trust my brain to fail me when I most needed it; I tried to gear it into action, but it was like trying to force a snapped wand to use _Alohomora _on a locked door. Animal footprints…not a Patronus...Moony's print was something he turned into…so, what was the answer? Something illegal. _Think. _There must have been something in the way I'd thought that through, because suddenly my brain fired a memory at me; not really a memory, but a picture, a picture of a letter.I could even hear it inside of my head, resounding off of my skull painfully. _She's extremely intelligent—and being an Animagus gives her bonus points._

"Animagus?" I gasped from the top of my head, not thinking about what I was accusing him of and not really believing that my guess had any substance.

The word hung between us heavily. Slowly, his eyes reopened. "For the record, I didn't tell you a thing."

"I'm right?" I nearly shouted. His features were weary, so I attempted to lower my voice, knowing the consequence if the wrong person overheard. An unregistered Animagus meant time in Azkaban, and they must be unregistered because the ministry would never give teenagers the license to do it. "Merlin! And I thought producing a Patronus as a fifth year was impressive."

He was watching me closely, so I tried to arrange my face into a not-so-alarming expression. "It took us years to do it," he explained.

"I bet," I muttered distractedly.

I didn't know much about Wizard law. The only thing I knew about Azkaban was that it was a terrifying place to go, with Dementors and captured Death Eaters infesting the place. I didn't know anything about the procedures, or the trials, or the punishments—though just setting foot in the prison seemed like punishment enough. And what I knew of an Animagus I had learned in third year in McGonagall's class when she did her infamous cat trick. I knew an unregistered one had to spend time in Azkaban, but I didn't know how much time.

Some emotion began to creep into my system that sent my stomach into tumbling loops and caused my brain to pound against my skull.

"How dangerous is it?" I asked worriedly.

"Well the likelihood of getting caught is slim; we don't flaunt it. Severus might know—"

"—he told me about Moony. He tried to tell me about Remus for years," I clarified.

James smiled but his eyes darkened. "Yeah, he knows about Remus, but Dumbledore has Snape under lock and key," he said, "and I'm pretty sure that Dumbledore knows about Moony's companions as well, which speaks to the whole dangerous thing; Dumbledore hasn't stopped us yet."

"Companions?" I questioned quickly. A horrifying realization was bubbling up inside of me, taking a more solid form, forcing itself into my brain for analysis despite my stubbornness.

He reached for my hand again. "We didn't just do this for fun, trust me. The process is painful, that's why the Ministry must oversee it; there are so many things that can go wrong—" he broke off then, and I shivered; I was almost positive he did as well. "But we knew what Remus went through once a month, and bites don't affect other animals…well, it's damn painful, but they can be healed in a matter of hours if you know the right healing charms."

This idea, this story, was so foreign to me. It seemed more like a fairytale filled with woodland creatures rather than my own strange half-man, half-monster reality. My brain was trying to wrap around it, so the emotions I should have been feeling were being delayed from showing, which probably saved James from a severe telling off or a hex to the face. "You three go _with _him?" I asked, my voice rising dramatically with the last word.

"It's not nearly as dangerous as you're thinking," he promised as his hand took a more desperate hold around mine, as if he were trying to tug me out of the spiral of nightmares racing around my head.

"Yeah," I agreed crazily, "it sounds like a regular tea party with the queen."

"Not quite as boring, though," James said with a tight grin. "Lily, you should see how it's changed him. Having us there, it's like Remus is still in there as well." I felt his gaze on my cheeks. "Breathe, Evans," he reminded me.

I tried; I attempted to match by breaths to his, to calm down my racing heart. I stared at him, and it helped. "I wish it weren't you," I blurted out quietly.

His eyes watched me steadily. "I wish it weren't Remus."

For a few seconds, nothing was said. "You were never this selfless," I mumbled, trying to crack a joke in order to clear the uneasiness I felt towards James running around with a werewolf from my thoughts, "what happened?"

He just laughed, not taking me seriously, which was probably a good idea since I was just saying the first things that came to my head. "So, are we good then?" he asked.

When I looked at him, I caught the soft look to his eyes, how he was staring at me unashamedly—determined, yet pleading with me to understand. I nodded subtly, even though my mind was still processing the sight of a stag bursting from James' slim body. It just didn't make sense to me, and I realized I admired him for it. I bit my lip. Was I becoming a bad person? I mean, admiring an outlaw hardly seemed moral. "I suppose," I answered slowly, "although I'm running a bit sluggishly at the moment, so in a few hours my answer may be different."

"I'll take it," he declared enthusiastically.

"Is that it, then?" I continued, mentally shaking myself, "I mean, you're not going to tell me you're also an Auror by night, are you?"

He laughed at that, placing his hand comfortably on my knee. As if my brain wasn't running slowly enough, thank you. But his touch oddly cleared my mind as opposed to muddling it; the only thing that suddenly mattered was…him. Blast his effect on me. "No," he answered with a grin, "just Prongs and James."

"I suppose I should have known," I stated, a bit distracted by the heat his palm was radiating on my kneecap. "I mean, what were the odds that I would have found two different guys that I liked?"

For a fraction of a second, his fingers stopped tapping on my leg, and I only caught it because I had become strangely accustomed to the tickling sensation there. His head perked up. "Do you like Prongs more?"

I froze.

_Oh._

Well, crap. I blamed him for distracting me with his Animagus story for letting that slip when I hadn't even planned it through yet. This was the question I'd avoided so cleverly back in that empty classroom and the whole time we'd been out here, and I had a feeling he wouldn't let me get away with that again. His eyes were burning too intently.

I needed more time—I needed to be logical, to plan out my response, to think about the consequences—the wind changed directions, and I caught his woody scent. Merlin, I wasn't cut out for this! My forehead was starting to spring a leak, and sweat was gathering up underneath my hairline. I wasn't cut out to be a girl. I swallowed noisily; Merlin, even my mouth was dry. Was this normal? That question shouldn't put this much stress on my body. "Is that what you were afraid of?" I half-stuttered thickly.

"Lily," he said, and my brain went into lock-down when his hand rested on my left cheek. "You didn't answer my question."

My mind was scrambled like eggs. "Well…" It was hard to think with him so close, and I had too much to think about. I was going to have an awful headache tonight. "You didn't answer mine."

He laughed, and his hot breath swept across my face. "I asked first, and I believe I've asked twice now."

Perhaps, if I closed my eyes, it would help me to think more clearly. Nope. All that did was cause my imagination to begin to think up of other things that we could be doing besides talking when we were this close—why were we wasting time with such informalities? At that thought, I instantly felt like hexing my lips shut. But when I opened my eyes again, his face was inches from mine as he leaned towards me on his knees, and I couldn't even remember my last name. And I couldn't look away because his bloody wonderful hand still had a hold on my cheek. Was it hot out here, or was that just me?

Maybe he was causing me to develop a fever.

"Can't you guess?" I retorted shakily.

"I just want to hear you say it."

Oh, for the love of everything magical…I sucked in a gulp of frosty air. "Prick," I found myself muttering.

He just grinned as if he understood the internal battle raging inside of me—as if he knew this one request would be the most difficult for me to deliver on—and that smirk sent me over the edge as if it had pushed me from the ledge I'd been balancing on. The ledge that had separated me from all of my prior personal boundaries that I'd built up to keep contact with boys out, where beyond that ledge lived the world of the unknown. But now I was falling, and maybe I jumped a little too willingly. As if it knew what it was doing—which it didn't—my hand snapped to the back of James' neck and pulled him towards me clumsily. And then his lips were moving against mine, and I had no idea what I was doing because I'd never done anything like this before, but I liked it.

"Lily," he muttered as our lips fumbled against each other. His hand moved up my arm to my shoulder and pushed me gently. I felt myself fall backwards onto my bum, and I realized that I must have risen up to my knees at some point. "Say it."

My mind reeled as his request brought me slamming back down to Earth, leaving me breathless. His cheeks were invitingly flushed. "James…" I said, though it sounded a lot like whining and it embarrassed me as soon as the sound left my mouth.

"It will be good for you," he said, smiling while brushing a strand piece of my hair away from my eyes. I felt myself gasping for air as my heart beat unnaturally fast inside of my chest. This was ridiculous, this stubbornness of mine, and I knew it. I pictured myself saying it, picking the right words, looking into his eyes like some mushy romance novel that Mary liked to read; the problem was that I couldn't picture me in that scenario.

James sat there, watching all of my thoughts playing out across my face, and his grin only widened as the seconds passed silently. It was a miracle he wasn't losing his patience, because even I was about to strangle myself. "So, it was easier to snog me with McGonagall watching from her office window," he finally accused amusedly.

A blush so furious that it caused me to enter into a heat flash rose to my cheeks as my gaze automatically jumped to the castle behind James. I flinched at the idea, wondering why our Professor wasn't in class and how in the name of Merlin James knew she was there. James was silent as I scanned the school windows in horror. Which office was hers? How did she—my eyes narrowed. McGonagall's office was on the opposite side of the castle. My glare turned back to James. "God," I cried, wanting to shove him with all of my strength for scaring me like that, "I don't even know why I like an idiot like you!"

His smile was so broad now that I wondered if it would soon eat up his entire face. "That will do, Evans," he answered calmly, taking my hand and swiftly kissing the top of it with his smirking mouth.

_What _had just happened? I struggled to come up with an idea to what he meant by that. He watched me patiently as I replayed our conversation in my head, McGonagall, me saying—I gaped at him. "That was a dirty trick, and you know it," I half-stuttered, too stunned to realize that half of me was thankful for the way the whole thing had played out.

He threw his arms open wide. "I'm a prankster," he replied, before his arms came down upon me, around me, pulling me closer. "For the record," he whispered into my ear, "I like you too."

OO

Later that night, after I'd begrudging told Mary and Emmeline what had happened that afternoon, the three of us sat on my bed in our dormitory. Emmeline was polishing her broomstick, I was pretending to finish my Potions homework while my mind was really going through the day's events, rewinding most often to the part were James and I were kissing…and Mary was scribbling away on a spare piece of parchment, her arm thrown over it protectively.

"There," Mary exclaimed after nearly twenty minutes of this, tossing her quill to the side and splattering black ink onto my duvet. "It's done."

I had to shake my head slightly before I answered her; a small blush still remained across my cheekbones. "What's done?"

"A masterpiece," Mary cooed, waving the parchment around her head.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Emmeline asked a little absent-mindedly. She was still examining herself in her broom handle in order to see if the reflection was clear enough. Apparently, she had deemed her work as still unacceptable and continued scrubbing away.

Mary's eyes were shining brilliantly, which was almost always a bad sign. "Lily has inspired me," she answered now clutching the paper to her chest.

I had a bad feeling about this.

"Please tell me you're not about to start an owl relationship too," Emmeline said wearily.

"If only Will was that romantic," Mary answered. "No, I've come up with a novel idea."

She thrust the parchment into my hands. I looked at her grinning face anxiously, worrying about what I was about to read. It had to be something scary if _I _had inspired it, of all people. Sprawled across the top in Mary's neat, loopy scrawl was what appeared to be the title. I felt like laughing and tearing up the paper at the same time.

"Please, no," I half-giggled, passing the outline to Em.

"It's good, yeah?" Mary asked.

Emmeline snorted. "The Doe and Stag: A Love Story by Mary Macdonald." She gave it back to Mary, whose tiny face was still glowing with excitement. "I think it's brilliant," Emmeline said then, going back to her broom, but not before she'd thrown a wicked grin in my direction.

"_What_?" Mary and I both yelped in surprise. My voice may have been a decibel higher.

She just continued to smirk into her broomstick. No doubt, this was her own way of getting back at me for the months of Prongs torture I'd forced her to endure. I pressed my thumb into the end of her Cleansweep, creating a smudge there. "You missed a spot," I pointed out to her rather vindictively.

Before she could retaliate—probably by suggesting to Mary that she could even dedicate the first chapter to me—a soft pecking sound came from over by our window. I glanced over only to see a dark shape bobbing up and down in the wind. It looked like a fuzzy Snitch…Was that—?

"Mail's here," Mary sang as I clambered off of my bed and over to the window. Lifting the latch, I threw it open and in flopped the little fluff ball. What was James playing at?

I couldn't help but smile as I stroked the bird before untying the letter from Harold's leg. Everything was just as it normally was—the emblem was there, holding the letter closed, and my name was written on the opposite side in the same messy penmanship that I now knew James had invented for this very purpose. My heart pounded with excitement as I slid my index finger underneath the flap, allowing the note to fall open on my bedside desk. Mary was scribbling on her novel notes again.

"You better not be writing this down," I accused half-heartedly, distracted by the open letter.

"Oh, just read the note," Mary responded.

I felt like dancing the mambo, there was so much excitement built up within me.

_Dear Lily,_

_You may be wondering why you're receiving this letter when there was no prank to speak of today—_

_Lily, this is Padfoot speaking. If you take down the Marauders, I'll take you down with me…Merlin, don't freak out, Evans. Learn to take a joke—_

_Prongs again, sorry about my moronic friend; Moony's thinking about sending him to a "Muggle dog kennel", and even though I don't know what that is, I doubt this kennel place would even take him. With that said, now that you know what I have to deal with, please agree to accompany me tomorrow evening on an all exclusive outing with the most well behaved Stag in magical history. Don't worry, Lily; no rules will be broken, because I know for a fact that there is no strictly written rule that says students aren't allowed to go into the kitchens. Well, Dumbledore's never mentioned one, anyways. Prankster's honor. _

_Hoping you'll save me from being stuck in this pound of misfits tomorrow night,  
Prongs_

_PS—And, Lily, don't stress. It won't be extraordinarily romantic, cliché', or disgustingly gushy. You're an odd one, Evans. But that's why I chose to write to you._

* * *

_The End._

_Oh, I hope you all enjoyed it. I know it probably wasn't one of my best, which is ironic seeing as I spent the most amount of time on this chapter, but I hope it brought all of you wonderful readers some sense of enjoyment. _

_Some of you have asked me if I am going to write a sequel (because, I know I mentioned it before) or if I'm going to write another Lily and James story. For right now, I'm going to have to answer no, to both accounts. This chapter was so difficult for me to write, I think I need to take a break for a while, until inspiration hits me. I've realized that I can't force myself to write something, because it takes all of the fun out of it and then I no longer enjoy it. I need to get over this writer's-stump of mine. Also, I've been trying to work on my own story, but I've hit a dead end with that as well. I'm beginning to think I'm losing my touch. A break is probably something I need. However, if a muse hits me and I suddenly go into a writing frenzy for a new story, you all will be the first to know. _

_So, with that said, goodbye for now! I hope you've enjoyed this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it (even when it was frustrating, at times). All of you who took time out of your days to read this are awesome, and I thank you so much!_

_Have a fantastic year! 2010 will be what you make it, so make it a good one!_

_--HeyLookTheSnitch_


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